Ukiyo: Floating World
by Hayase Yuuki
Summary: Taito AU, Japan during the Edo period. Yamato is a man of the arts, while Taichi has the soul of a warrior. They both must fight the only way they know how to keep their world safe as Japan turns to modernization. How strong is their bond of red thread?
1. Chapter 1: Red Heat

**Ukiyo ~ Floating World  
>Chapter One: Red Heat<strong>

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Digimon or any of its respective characters and such. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction devoted to the absolute perfection of my OTP.  
><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> Since I majored in Japanese, I added bits and pieces of Japanese literature and history throughout the work. Footnotes are provided for the readers' convenience. However, Japanese history was not my strength, so if something seems a little off, please don't hesitate to correct me. I'm doing my research as best as I can, and without taking an actual course in Japanese history, there is a definite possibility that something will be amiss. Apologies! Lastly, the names are written in the traditional surname-forename structure.

* * *

><p>Yamato breathed a soft sigh, looking up from his faded copy of Man'yoshu. The cherry blossoms were already starting to fall, and it was only the second month of the year. Change was heavy in the air on this chilly afternoon; the Tokugawa shogunate was still in power, but the blonde-haired boy was certain that this power would last only as long as the fragile pink blossoms of the tree he sat beneath. Since the arrival of the Americans, the ports at Odaiba have been opened, and isolation was no longer the reality he knew since boyhood. The seventeen year old set his book aside and pulled his koto from its case, tuning it absently as he took in the light fragrance of the cherries. He shut his eyes and remembered his first night acting in Gion, just weeks ago.<p>

It was still snowing at the time. Yamato had been studying the koto under the master Yamada Kengyo since he was seven, after shunning his family's long line of samurai. Ishida. Descended from the great Ishida Mitsunari, betrayer of Tokugawa Ieyasu. And here was the eldest son of Ishida Hiroaki, off to pursue the arts instead of the way of the sword! Even the best samurai would learn both the art of fighting and beauty, said his father the night the young boy made his decision. It was snowing that night; interesting how the cold stuff always seemed to surround the important parts of his life! His parents were fighting viciously, and it was evident that the red thread that had supposedly connected them eternally was not as strong as they thought. Even at seven, Yamato was protective of his younger brother of four years. He did his best to shield little Takeru's innocent ears from his father's poisonous words, but it was no use. The four year old would succumb to the fighting against his will, and the screams eventually drove their mother to whisk the younger boy away in the dead of night. Yamato was now under the sole care of his father. And he didn't want to follow in his father's footsteps. So he, too, left in the dead of night, not even leaving a note to explain his absence.

He didn't have to go far from home. The Yamada school was in Edo, only a couple of neighborhoods down, and Yamato was a skilled speaker for a young boy, allowing him to find his way to Kengyo quickly. The entire excursion only took the better part of ten hours, and he didn't even have to stop for food. The master was younger than the boy had expected. Yamada Kengyo attained the title of "master" at the tender age of twenty-two, and had not taken a bride. The man was married to his music, and Yamato wanted the same. He did not want to deal with the pain of a relationship, especially when they were arranged. Before he could even speak, Yamato was promised a bride by the name of Takenouchi Sora. Who could think about marriage at seven years old? Times were changing, he said to Master Kengyo, and he didn't want to be a part of it. Kengyo immediately took him on as an apprentice, and since then, Yamato had become a very skilled koto player, though still nameless. Gion was supposed to be his breakthrough performance for his seventeenth birthday, providing the background for the kabuki performance of Dojoji.

But something went wrong that night. Yamato and Master Kengyo were in another room practicing, several hours early, as usual, when the kabuki troupe leader came in, wringing his hands fretfully. "I apologize, Master Yamada," he said, clearly trying to keep his voice steady as he dabbed his forehead with a cloth. "You have both come from so far to perform for us, and yet…I am afraid a problem has arisen."

"Oh? Whatever is the matter, sir?" Kengyo asked without looking up from his koto. Yamato smiled to himself. The master was not one to care too much about such things, and he certainly wasn't going to make a fuss about what would surely be a small problem.

Taking a deep breath, the stout actor held back a choked sob. _The life of an actor_, Yamato thought, turning his blue eyes back to his own koto. "Our…one of our main actors, who is to play Kiyohime, has refused to show. As you know, without a Kiyohime, Dojoji is essentially ruined, and so…"

The man continued to talk endlessly, explaining why the play could not go on. Yamato suddenly realized what this would mean for him: he would not be able to play the koto for them tonight. His heart began to sink. The troupe leader's words began to attack him personally. Trying to maintain his composure, Yamato continued to tune his stringed instrument, though he let his shoulders slump in disappointment. He unintentionally tuned the conversation out. It was Master Kengyo's steady voice that pulled him back to reality. "Yamato. You are familiar with Dojoji, are you not?"

Yamato looked up, raising a brow in curiosity as he nodded toward the older man. It was true: Yamato devoured books when he wasn't practicing his instrument, and Dojoji happened to be one of his favorites. He and Kengyo visited the theatre often to synchronize their music with the actors' movements. Yamato's slender fingers would pluck the strings with a beautiful clarity, and his skill was greatly refined under Kengyo's tutelage. That being said, it was no surprise that he could master the timing so quickly. The dark-haired musician would make Yamato practice to hone his discipline, but would allow him to study the actors' craft when they inevitably finished early. There were plenty of times when Yamato would join the actors in jest, playing the part of Kiyohime when the gaudy player left the theatre for the day. "You do this so well," said Motomiya Daisuke, who served as one of the young apprentices of the acting troupe. "I'm surprised that you're not in our troupe! Our own 'Kiyohime' tends to overact the part all the time."

Needless to say, Yamato was a very talented young man. Kengyo often made remarks, praising his apprentice indirectly. He talked about how glad he was that the gods gave him a young man who seemed to have been specifically born to serve the arts. Still unsure of what was being insinuated in this situation, Yamato fiddled with his koto blankly until the troupe leader suddenly embraced him in a crushing embrace. "Oh, oh, please, thank you! The troupe thanks you both for eternities to come! You have saved us all!"

"Wh-What's going on?" Yamato asked, struggling for breath after the actor left jumping with joy. "What did you say to him, Master Kengyo?"

Kengyo yawned. "Not paying attention this time around, were we now?" His lips were turned up in a smile as he moved his koto back to his side, folding his hands on his lap afterward. "You've just been accepted to play the part of Kiyohime tonight."

"I…what?"

"That's right. They will be expecting you in a couple of hours to get into costume and makeup."

Shocked into a stunned silence, Yamato blinked, trying to make sense of the words. "I…I am to get into costume. And makeup. To play Kiyohime."

"Correct."

"But…but the koto…"

"That can wait for another time."

"Wasn't this supposed to be – "

"Your debut? Yes. Yes, it was. But, my apprentice, look upon the situation with new eyes. They have nobody to play one of the most crucial parts of the play. One simply cannot have Dojoji without Kiyohime. Though I thought this obvious, it would be impossible for you to perform at all without a play." Kengyo looked at the young man, his bored eyes communicating a serious message drenched in pretentious wisdom. "You may as well get your name out there, even under the guise of an actor. I figure we will be able to present you next time as 'The Beautiful Kiyohime'. It will cause quite a stir if we present you as a multi-talented individual."

The boy breathed a rough sigh as he leaned against the wall, crossing his arms and pushing his left foot against it. The position made him look nonchalant, but his furrowed brow begged to differ. After years of toil dedicated to his koto, how could he even consider being an actor, if even for a night? A simple compliment from a troupe member was a nice thing to have, but it surely was not enough to merit a place in the spotlight. He raised a fist to his mouth and bit his lip. _I want to perform_, he thought miserably. _And Gion is _the_ place to perform, even to this day. We came all the way from Edo! Almost 300 miles along the roads! It took us a whole week with our kotos strung to our backs…it would be such a waste, such a waste…_

"Well, there's still time, I suppose," said Kengyo, who began to pull at the strings of his koto once more. "We can always rush over and tell them we can't possibly do it, even though I hear you reciting Dojoji in your sleep. And you'd better decide now. I didn't know you were so fond of walking through the Tokaido, especially after we were almost robbed blind a dozen times."

Yamato shook his head and mumbled to himself. "I know, I know, old man," he said quietly.

Kengyo chuckled. "I'm thirty-two. Not that old yet, kid. But I'm still years wiser than you, whether you like it or not."

The blonde leaned forward from the wall and straightened his dark kimono, eyes closed. His shoulders no longer slumped, and he stood tall as he exhaled through his nose, hands lying on top of each other, thumbs meeting in the center. Smiling, Kengyo knew that his student was now putting things into focus. Whenever the boy prepared for a recital, he would have his eyes shut and breathe through his nose, as he did now. The Ishida blood ran true. He may not have chosen the path of the warrior, but he approached each and every challenge with the same steadfast meditation.

"How much time do I have left to prepare?" Yamato asked, voice lush with confidence. "I must admit, I wondered why we had to arrive days before the performance, but I can't help but feel that you did that on purpose."

"Ha-ha! I'm not that brilliant when it comes to such sudden events. No, I am just an advocate for hard work, and for perfect koto recitals. Your callused fingers should say enough about how hard I work you during practice," Kengyo replied, chuffed. "I would have had us arrive weeks early if I knew this was going to happen. In any case, you have about six hours to look through the lines again."

Yamato pulled a small pamphlet from the folds of his clothes. He had brought his own copy of the kabuki version of Dojoji. Though it had much more detail than the Noh version, the story itself was not very long. Yamato thoroughly enjoyed the literature he came across; in the little spare time he had, he would write his own lines of poetry in attempts to eventually create a song. He liked to think that what he lacked in battle skills, he more than made up with in soul.

The story of Dojoji was typical of historic Japanese literature. It began as a Noh play, and followed the usual pattern: it started with a minor character from a nearby temple, ready to purify a certain ground for an unknown celebration. Within a few moments, a wanderer will come by; in this case, a dancer who persuades the man to let her enter the sacred area. After a short exposition, an even shorter instance will occur, launching the play into the actual story.

Yamato thumbed through the pages as Kengyo played an accompaniment. The master truly had a wonderful grasp when it came to music. He would change the background music just as Yamato found himself reading the next scene, making his short read-through immensely enjoyable. The room was cold, but he couldn't feel it as he recalled the tale in his mind. _Dojoji, Red Heat_. There were many versions of the story, but the message was the same.

Dojoji was actually the name of a temple known for its giant bronze bell. The story tells of two priests, one young and one old, on an annual pilgrimage to Kumano. The older one would always stop at a village nearby, for he knew a steward who was kind enough to give them a place to rest. This time, though, a woman by the name of Kiyohime answered the door. When she laid eyes the younger priest, her heart leapt from within her triangle-patterned kimono. For the three nights the priests stayed, she would always come by, trying to seduce him, for she wanted him as her husband.

But the young priest was a devout follower of the Way, and he would turn her away every time. Kiyohime, however, was not the type of person to give up so easily, and she continued her advances. The young priest, unskilled in the ways of romance, was exasperated. He decided to make her a bargain so she would leave him alone. He made a promise under false pretenses, murmuring that he would return after his pilgrimage was complete, handing her his Boddhitsava relic. It would take no longer than a week, he had said to her. This placated the woman, and she was pleased. And so after the three days they left. She began to wait patiently, clutching the Boddhitsava statue he gave to her.

A week came and disappeared, and so did another. Kiyohime began to show signs of worry, wringing her hands around the statue of the merciful Buddha. She held it with such force that she failed to notice the crack that appeared in the center. Crazed, she went out of her home and began to follow the path the priests had taken, asking all travelers that passed her way. In this way, she found out that the priest had lied to her, and it had been a good while since he completed his pilgrimage. Enraged and depressed, the woman crawled back to her home and died that night.

The next morning, an enormous snake emerged from her bed. It raced across the great river that led to the Dojoji temple, the last place that travelers had seen the two priests. Kiyohime had been transformed into the horrific creature after learning that she had been tricked, and she was still bound to the physical world by her lust and unrequited love. Through word of mouth, the priests discovered the presence of Kiyohime's new form, and decided to hide the handsome priest until she was gone. The older priest and the temple servants of Dojoji worked together to hide the young priest under Dojoji's giant bronze bell.

Within minutes, Kiyohime burst through the gates of the temple. She whipped her scaly head left and right, and seemed to sense the man's presence from beneath the bell. An angry roar escaped from that terrifying mouth as she coiled her slimy body around it, and crimson tears began to fall from her demonic eyes. A horrible red heat seemed to surround the sacred area, and the priests knew immediately that the young priest would not survive this encounter as the bell turned white-hot. When she finished crying, she heard the murmur of the priests' prayers, and was driven from Dojoji, her pain resonating throughout the courtyard as she fled.

Frightened, the priests approached the bell after it had cooled down and lifted it. A few of them held back choked sobs when they saw that absolutely nothing was left of the young priest. Not even a trace of ash was present. They prayed silently, and the head priest of Dojoji advised the older priest (who had been traveling with the handsome one) must pray for them to save their souls. He does so, face streaked with tears, and begins praying.

As he finishes the incantation, the elder priest falls into a deep sleep. He is visited by a vision, where two snakes descend from a cloud. Once they reached eye-level, the priest is surprised to find them transformed into their human forms. "Thank you, Elder Priest," the young man said. "You have saved both of our souls, and now we can live in heaven."

Yamato shook his head. As a boy, he despised Kiyohime. If only she hadn't been there! The young priest would have become devout as he wished to be, instead of heaven. And why was he in heaven with the woman who brought him down? Why was he not in a horrible place instead? But now, Yamato would be playing the role of Kiyohime. He struggled to understand her mindset. _She was just being human_, he concluded. _Look at me. I'm not a priest, nor a monk. I don't follow religion. I only follow my heart, and my heart only resonates with music. And he didn't have to promise her a damned thing in the first place. She was devout in her own way – this was her desire. She wanted love. What's so wrong about that?_

"Finished, then? Come under the _kotatsu_. You're paler than the snow out there." Kengyo called. It took Yamato a moment to realize that the music had stopped, and he was freezing. January was not a month that provided agreeable weather, and he just remembered that it was still snowing outside. Tucking the Dojoji pamphlet back into his kimono, he stood up from the kneeling position he had been sitting in for the greater portion of two hours and joined his master under the heater.

"Are you very familiar with Dojoji, Master?"

"We have only been practicing for, oh, months, to perform for the play. So yes, I do think I can say that I know of it."

"What do you think of Kiyohime?"

"Ah, Yamato. You know I would not think of you differently after this. She's just a character, you know."

"So I assume you don't like her."

Kengyo shifted in his seat, careful to avoid the hot coals from underneath the _kotatsu_. "It's not that at all," he mused. "I think she is a very interesting character. But let me ask you the same thing, since you are the one who plays along with the other actors once that Ichijouji boy has left: what do _you_ think of her? Motomiya is not the only one who thinks you are perfect for the part, you know. I, too, am capable of such thoughts."

Yamato laughed as he thought of Ichijouji Ken, who was supposed to play Kiyohime tonight. The boy was slender, with hair of a deep indigo color, and moody. Neither of the koto players were surprised that Ken decided to walk out on opening night. It was half-expected, and they were certain that the troupe leader did his best not to believe it was so. "Thank you for the compliment, Master Kengyo," Yamato said with a smile. "Well…Kiyohime. Now that I actually have to play her, my feelings for her have changed. I used to think she deserved her fate – being turned into a snake – and that the priest had a very unfair end.

"But now, I have to wonder: is it all right to feel like that? Wouldn't anyone feel that way if they were promised something so precious, only to find out from someone else that it was just a lie?" Yamato tilted his head down, feeling troubled. "I would hate that. I'm no saint, and while I admire those who make such devout pilgrimages, I am not one of those men. I am a human."

Kengyo rested his head on his palm as he studied the boy. He was quiet, ruminating over his answer, and simply nodded. He turned his deep brown eyes onto Yamato, who was still absently looking at the tabletop. Realizing that Yamato's answer was complete, he coughed gently. "A human indeed," he said softly. "We are so human that we choose keep our heads in the clouds of this Floating World. It's just entertainment to those who consume our art; but for us, it is the very oxygen we breathe…"

Before the man could finish, a messenger came in, informing the duo that they would begin costuming in less than fifteen minutes. There were only three more hours before the show would start, and Yamato would have to practice moving with the heavy makeup and fabric. The boy nodded, assuming that his teacher would elaborate on his answer once they were done with the production.

"Good luck," Kengyo said to Yamato, lazily waving his hand once before turning his attention back to his beloved instrument.

The messenger didn't give Yamato a chance to reply as he grasped the boy's hand and pulled him through the maze of a building. The teen had to shield his eyes as he entered a room filled with lanterns and mirrors in attempts to make it as bright as possible. Daisuke turned his head, face half-done in the extravagant kabuki makeup, and grinned when he saw Yamato. "Ah, so you're to replace Ken? That's great! You really make a fantastic snake of a guy – er, girl!"

Yamato was guided to a seat next to Daisuke's, and he shivered when the white makeup was slapped onto his face. This was not something he ever had to do, and he couldn't help but grimace. "Hey," he grumbled. "A little gentler, would that kill you?"

The makeup artist was deaf to his protests, and after half an hour of Daisuke's chatter and Yamato's attempts to stay still, he was done. A mirror was lifted, and the blonde gasped at what he saw in the reflection. He was no longer Ishida Yamato. He truly looked the part of Kiyohime, and was surprised at the transformation from man to woman. The man with the brush decided to make tonight's snake woman into a beautiful, seductive thing, and Yamato couldn't help but stare at himself in disbelief. What a difference the face paint made!

Daisuke let out a low whistle. "Boy, I wouldn't care about Kumano anymore if I saw you," he said, grin widening. "I'm the priest that you're supposed to seduce, you know? I'm going to have a tough time actually resisting you!"

Yamato replied with a cross between a grumble and a chortle as he raised a hand to his face slowly. His lips were so red! When he parted them, he felt himself blush under the white makeup; he seemed every bit a seducer, and there was something strangely inappropriate about opening his mouth when it was so prettily painted. "I guess I do look pretty good," he said smugly after some thought.

"Hah! Conceited boy," Daisuke replied. "Just make sure you can keep up with us. Not that I'm worried."

The two boys and the other actors were dressed, and they were all finally ready for a quick run through before they would perform. Yamato was uncomfortable and could barely move in the weighty kimonos that were now draped over his shoulders, and his feet were not accustomed to walking with them on. Quick-witted as he was, it still took them a long while to get through the first act. Time was already running low. He gulped. Perhaps this wasn't the best idea.

"Don't you choke on us now, koto player," Daisuke warned after noticing the worried look on Yamato's face. "You're all we've got right now. When Ken gets like this, he doesn't recover until he's climbed Mt. Fuji twice."

"I'm no actor," Yamato quipped, feeling his nerves turn on him. "I can't do this. I can't. I'm tripping over these damned robes, I can barely remember the words that I'm supposed to say, I'm not even sure how I'm going to climb the damned bell! I'm no good. I can't do it."

Daisuke looked ominous with the extra makeup on. "Shut up! Stupid! You think that people wouldn't look at you if you were playing the koto? You could be the best koto player in the world and people would still notice if you were nervous! I'd hit you if you weren't wearing makeup," he said in his abnormally loud voice. "So just keep your head on, okay? Just think about it! Do whatever the hell you do before you break your fingers strumming at that piece of wood! You wouldn't perform either way, with a koto or not, so just get this right. Just. Get. This. _Right_."

Still grimacing, Yamato tried his best to calm down, but now he felt so misunderstood. This made him angry. He wanted to run away, to hit someone, to cry. _Why should I have to do this? I am a koto player! I am a musician! Why can't they understand? Who is this kid to tell me that _I'm_ the stupid one?_

"Fifteen minutes," said a messenger from the wings. Yamato could feel his palms sweating, his heart beating faster and faster. He felt dizzy. There was no way he could do this. He would surely faint before he even reached the stage. It was impossible, this whole situation was ridiculous, _he_ felt ridiculous…

"Whoa!"

The actors all whirled at the same moment toward the sound of this unfamiliar voice. The surprised sound came from a boy who looked to be the same age as Yamato, who was half-hidden in the shadows of the backstage area. A sizeable mop of chocolate-brown hair stood from his head, his amber eyes shining with curiosity. His deep blue kimono was tied on clumsily, and a katana hung from a scabbard. He looked every inch the lackadaisical adventurer. His large eyes were shining with excitement, possibly from sneaking to the actors' area, and his mouth was curved in an open-mouthed grin as he surveyed the place. "Er, sorry, sorry! I just wanted to have a look! I didn't know you'd all be here, or anything," he said, his voice pleasantly raspy. "Uh, anyway, you all look great! I'll be in the audience. Anyway, since I'm here, mind telling me when you're starting – "

"_Ten_ minutes!" the troupe leader said shrilly, making a short appearance. "Wha…hey, who are you? Out, out, get out!"

"Gotta go," the stranger said, bowing shortly. "See ya in ten!"

Somehow, the strange occurrence helped calm Yamato down. _At least there's some crazy man out there with enough courage…or stupidity…to come back here. At least one person won't care nor notice how badly I act once I get onstage. He's just happy to be here. To be entertained by us all._ He shut his eyes, straightened his back, and breathed through his nose as he meditated. Focus was once again in his command, thanks to this silly boy who distracted him from his worry.

"Well, that was weird," Daisuke said, scratching his head underneath his wig, mouth in a disapproving curl. He turned back to Yamato, somewhat taken aback at the sudden concentration that seemed to surround the boy. "Uh…well, are you ready?"

Yamato didn't reply for a couple of minutes, and as he exhaled, he felt his confidence soar. "Yes. I am ready," he said, voice steady. "I apologize about my behavior earlier. We'll be fine."

Daisuke raised his eyebrows, detecting the sudden alteration in Yamato's attitude. Yamato tapped the Dojoji pamphlet, still tucked in his innermost kimono, and he felt his heart calm its previously rapid pace. Kengyo was already out on the stage, and Yamato was comforted when he heard the warm, familiar sounds of the koto. He was immediately transported into the story, and Yamato took a final deep breath as the play began. _I am Kiyohime; I am human. We are artists. We are all human and imperfect, beautifully misunderstood creatures_.

The play went on without a hitch. The boy who snuck backstage was easy to spot in the audience. His big hair was definitely the first thing that could be seen, if not the eager excitement in his bright eyes. Yamato was admittedly not the most modest man in the world, but he swore that he could feel the boy's eyes on him every time he shuffled onto the stage. And every time he made himself conscious about it, he felt the strangest urge to grin, to laugh, to do anything else but act. Confidence certainly did strange things to a person.

After the performance, Kengyo helped Yamato off the stage, but not before announcing his pupil by name as his star kotoist. The audience was visibly confused, and many of them were curious about the announcement. "Why did he not play today?" "He is wonderful!" "When will we hear him?" Once again, Kengyo's intuition saved Yamato. Chuckling to himself, Kengyo patted the younger man on the back as they made their way to the costume room.

"Congratulations. It was a grand performance."

"I was nervous at first."

"But someone gave you strength," Kengyo said matter-of-factly.

"How did you know?" Yamato asked, incredulous. "You had a different entrance point than me."

"Yes, well, that young lad who barged in wasn't the quietest of folk. I imagine that you almost let your nerves get the best of you, and if it weren't for his distraction, you probably would have fled. Dressed as a woman, I might add," the master said with a flourish of the hand. "Might not have ended too well for you, since you make _quite_ the lovely girl."

Yamato gave him a look as he took a warm cloth to his face. The makeup artist scurried in as if he sensed the actor was about to make a grave mistake, slapped Yamato's hand away, and began undoing the disguise he provided for him earlier. Within a dizzying ten minutes, Yamato was back in his normal clothing and conveniently placed next to Kengyo. The makeup artist was nowhere to be found. _What a tornado of a person,_ Yamato thought to himself, feeling refreshed now that he could feel his own skin. He shook his head and ran a hand through his golden hair. "By the way, before I forget, what _do_ you think of Kiyohime's character?" he inquired, rubbing his cheek.

"Ah, yes," Kengyo began. "As I was saying before: we are the architects, the creators of _ukiyo_, our Floating World, or 'entertainment', to the normal folk. So it makes sense that we would relate to characters like Kiyohime."

The master ran his fingers over his own callused hands, recalling what he had wanted to explain to Yamato before the performance. "She was promised love, a beautiful thing. In the same way, we are promised retribution for the beauty that we make for others. And because we expect such things, because we expect to be recognized for the beautiful things we produce, we are already not the ones who can easily give up such a life for religion. In any case, Yamato, I agree with what you had said before: we are human, just like Kiyohime. And this is what I think: we might not have the glowing aura of those who have attained Nirvana, but at least we can be true with ourselves. We know what we desire, we know what we crave – we know who we are."

"And we don't like it when we're lied to," Yamato agreed. "Nor when we are promised something, and then having that promise forgotten. As easily as one forgets a dream as they recall it the next morning."

"Ho-ho. I do have trouble with remembering a dream as soon as I wake. Very good. It seems that we're on the same page as the tragic Kiyohime. I suppose we just have to try our best to keep from morphing into a horrendous snake," Kengyo said. "In any case, let's head back soon. We've got another long trek ahead of us, so make sure to get some sleep."

Nodding, Yamato bowed to his master and excused himself to claim his koto, which he had left in the room they had practiced in earlier. He could not believe that he had just taken on the role of Kiyohime, and on such short notice! There was no way he could tell which party the audience sympathized with, but the amount of chatter and applause he had received when Kengyo introduced him was no small thing. People would surely want to hear Yamato's true talent now! He smiled in spite of himself as he gathered his instrument, the snow still falling quietly around him as he walked out toward the inn.

He was almost there when a familiar head of hair sidled up next to him. "Hey! You did a great job back there," he said with a smile. "But you really do look crazy different without the makeup."

Though he was surprised and slightly agitated by the sudden company, Yamato smiled. "How on earth did you know it was me, then?"

The boy motioned to Yamato's koto. "The old man said you were his star player. And there aren't a lot of people who tote around such a wieldy thing like that for fun. Not to mention the fact that you look nothing like a servant boy."

"I could very well be the servant boy."

"You're clutching it more like it's your firstborn son rather than out of fear that your master will beat you."

"Hm." Yamato still wasn't sure what he deserved to be graced by company. He felt terribly cold without the warmth of the _kotatsu_ in the playhouse, and inadvertently glanced toward the inn.

Following his gaze, the boy put an arm behind his head and let out a nervous guffaw. "Oh! Sorry. You were probably on your way to somewhere important. I promise you, there's actually a purpose to this!" He slipped his hand onto his scabbard, which made Yamato step back cautiously. "Don't worry. There's no reason to cut you down."

He began untying a bright red string from the hilt of the sword. Yamato tilted his head, trying to guess what it might have been. The stranger wasn't adept at untying knots, so Yamato decided to fill the void with small talk. "You know, not many people carry swords around these days," he said, noting that it was cold enough to see his own breath as he spoke. "Why do you have one?"

"This old thing? Well, that's a good question…" the boy replied in a low mumble. "Maybe you could just say I'm special, or something. Opening our ports to the world…it's an exciting venture, but I want to protect what I know. And what I know, what I've always known, is this sword and what it stands for." He finally undid the knot.

A small bronze bell was hanging on the end of the red ribbon. Wearing a confident smile, he took Yamato's hand and pushed the charm into his palm. "There we go! It's your first performance, right? I thought you were really amazing. And I don't really know a thing about art, but you made something in here – uh…how do I say this without sounding completely weird?" He filled another void with senseless, bright laughter. "It's the first time I've ever seen a play, okay? And I know I'll remember it forever. My dad always said that we should make sure good work doesn't go on unrewarded, so…uh, yes, I think this bell makes sense. Because, y'know…"

Yamato couldn't help but smile at this funny boy. He blushed at the compliment, and looked at the trinket in his hand. "The bell in the play, yes. I understand. Thank you. It is a really nice gesture. I'll treasure it," he said as he wound it around his Dojoji pamphlet.

"Don't take this the wrong way, either, but you were really beautiful as Kiyohime. I don't know how to say it without sounding offensive. You just…seemed so perfect for it. And it didn't matter if you were really a guy or girl or not. You were really _her_." The boy kicked a tuft of snow before looking back at Yamato. "So, uh, I hope to see you perform on your koto sometime! You must be really great at that too. I hope you touched a bunch of others the same way you touched me tonight."

"Taichi! What on earth are you talking about? How inappropriate!" came the throaty voice of an orange-haired girl behind the boy samurai. "I'm sorry, sir, please excuse my…friend, here. We'll be on our way now!"

The boy called Taichi, with that ever-present smile, lifted a hand and waved at Yamato as the girl pushed him toward another street. "Do your best!" he called. "I hope I get the chance to see you perform again!"

Yamato stood there, grinning like an idiot as he touched the small bell, now safe in his kimono. His face felt flushed, but he was certain it was the cold air that made his cheeks rosy. It took a great effort on his part to continue the short stroll to the inn, where Master Kengyo greeted him with a curious look. They said nothing to each other; Yamato only bowed and went straight to bed out of exhaustion. It had been a long day. They would be leaving Gion in the morning, and in due time, they would be back home in Edo. The chances of running into Taichi would be miniscule, but at least he had a memento of his only night as an actor.

He opened his eyes again, letting out a gasp, as if awakening from a dream. The snow was gone, only to be replaced by the cherry blossoms he sat beneath. Yamato had been mindlessly playing his koto for the entirety of his daydreaming, clutching the tiny bell charm all the while. _There's no real reason why I was thinking of him,_ Yamato thought to himself. _It was my birthday on that night. I received the gift of applause from a large crowd…and this bell, from that Taichi boy. _Holding it to his breast, he tried to ignore the sound of his heart thumping.

"_We are the architects of the Floating World. We are promised retribution for the beauty that we make for others. We expect to be recognized for the beautiful things we produce."_

Yamato recalled his master's words in his mind, and exhaled raggedly. _I was recognized by Taichi. That in itself is "beauty" for me._ He slipped the charm back into his kimono, and allowed his body to rest without the distraction of daydreams. A pale pink cherry blossom gently landed on his cheek when he finally got to sleep, his right hand instinctively protecting the bell against the warmth of his body.

* * *

><p><strong>Notes<strong>: It seems that I am unable to include actual numbers in my footnotes, so hopefully this will clear up any mishaps that occurred along the way.

1. Man'yoshu: The oldest known collection of Japanese poetry.  
>2. The story takes place around the end of the Edo period and the beginning of the Meiji Restoration. In other words, Japan's doors were forcibly opened to the rest of the world. In years to come, Japan will hyperfocus on westernization and forget about Japanese traditional culture, which the Edo period stimulated.<br>3. Ishida Mitsunari betrayed Tokugawa Ieyasu, but for one reason or another, Ieyasu still thought he was cool and wanted him around.  
>4. Yamada Kengyo was the founder of the koto school in Edo (modern-day Tokyo).<br>5. The Tokaido was a long road connecting Edo to Kyoto for trade purposes.  
>6. Men still played the parts of women (actually, you can still see Noh and kabuki plays done this way, and the other way around - there are kabuki performances where all parts are played by women). They were called <em>onnagata<em>.  
>7. The red thread supposedly relates to a myth, stating that whoever is holding the other end of fate's red thread is the one you will be with for all eternity.<br>8. The story of Dojoji is sometimes translated as Red Heat. That being said, there are dozens of different translations, but the story is essentially the same. Also, can you guess what the moral is supposed to be?

Anyway, hope you all enjoyed chapter one! It went on for a while, I know. I'd appreciate it if you shared your thoughts with me! Taito forever, y'all.


	2. Chapter 2: The Flower Viewing

**Ukiyo ~ Floating World  
>Chapter 2: The Flower Viewing<strong>

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Digimon or any of its respective characters and such. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction devoted to the absolute perfection of my OTP.  
><strong>Author's NotesThanks:** Since I majored in Japanese, I added bits and pieces of Japanese literature and history throughout the work. Footnotes are provided for the readers' convenience. However, Japanese history was not my strength, so if something seems a little off, please don't hesitate to correct me. And thank you so much for the lovely reviews! I'm doing my research as best as I can. If anything is amiss...my apologies, and please correct me! The names are written in the traditional surname-forename structure. Lastly, can you catch my Teen-age Wolves lyric reference? I'm sure you can. I made it easy for you all.

* * *

><p>Word of Ishida Yamato's performances were spreading like wildfire amongst those who were not yet enchanted by the promises of modernization. Their once isolated world was now in a state of chaos. Many still clung to their ideal vision of a "traditional Japan", and Yamato's fingers made the koto sing in a way that still reminded one of the still beauty of Edo as it was for decades. Gossip on the street said that he could make even the coldest winter night feel like the crisp sea breeze on a summer day through simple adjustments of speed and rhythm. It had been a year since his unorthodox debut in Gion. Why would such a grand musician grace the stage with his presence not with a koto, but with brazen costumes and makeup of kabuki? Yagami Taichi was well-acquainted with a fact that he found obvious: Ishida Yamato was an artist, and that's why he could transcend the borders.<p>

Taichi was a strange and simple boy to begin with. He possessed neither the sensitive ear of a musician nor the scrutinizing eye of a painter, so it was no surprise that he did not discern between the arts. He did not feel the need to: the only thing artistic to him was the lovely shape of the sword at his hilt, its absolute sharpness a work of art in itself. What a shame it was to feel born in the wrong time period! Here he was, a boy who was destined to be a leader, a boy who was destined to fight like his forefathers! And now he was forced to live in an age where the samurai was expected to sheath his sword and instead learn the language of trade, wearing one of those strange, restricting suits. He had seen them before: pants that revealed every movement; not one, but two or three layers up top, a buttoned jacket and vest fiasco; and even the necktie resembled a noose to him. In his father's and grandfather's day, such clothing would be silly to wear. Hakama and gi allowed one to hide their directive. The enemy would not be able to tell if you were heading forward or backward, and by the time it was clear, he would be dead. But these suits – there was simply no way to fight in them. Perhaps it was because the use of gun power was more practical these days.

The only reason he had agreed to go to Gion with Sora was because he wanted to impress her. After all, the best samurai were revered not only for their might on the battlefield, but for their understanding of culture and literature: _bun bu ryo do_, literary arts, military arts, together. The pen and the sword together were the stuff of true warriors. But Taichi found the stuff to be problematic and confusing. The first and only drawing he made was childish at best, and his father had to hold back a startled laugh upon seeing the clumsy stick figures he drew. Poetry made even less sense to him: what was the point of writing messages with hidden meanings when you could say it outright? And plays were simply out of the question. Taichi did not understand what was so fascinating about watching someone else's life, especially when no one wore _that _much makeup or walked _that _slowly onstage, save for the pretty geisha from Kyoto. It was simply unrealistic.

When he saw the advertisements for Dojoji, though, his curiosity was healthily piqued. He had heard of _onnagata_ before, but he never knew that it was an actual phenomenon. Men that dressed and played the parts of women in plays; why not just get actual women to play them, he wondered! Did they have to put fruits in their kimonos to look like breasts? Did the men actually look like women, or did the makeup transform them so fully that it didn't matter how manly his facial features were? Taichi was full of questions that no one was eager to answer, so that snowy night, against Sora's protests, Taichi decided to sneak backstage to find the dressing rooms and find out on his own.

Taichi could have chosen the path of ninjutsu over bushido. Though he was usually boisterous, when the time called for it, he could be as invisible as a mouse. Looking modest in his dark-blue gi paired with a deep-brown hakama, he wandered in swiftly and silently, taking care not to drag his feet on the smooth wooden floors. His _tabi_-clad feet were well-worn from several training sessions with his father, focusing solely on moving quickly and quietly by not stepping, but sliding from the balls of his feet. This made his espionage much easier, and not one person noticed his presence. But when he saw the actors, already dressed for the play, he couldn't help but vocalize the awe that he felt.

Perhaps priests and women did not look like this in real life, but who cared? They were dressed impeccably, and they were so impressionable that he immediately understood why kabuki was so popular amongst the citizens. But when the _onnagata_ turned to him, Taichi felt his heart throb painfully. It was the ethereal beauty of the man before him dressed as a woman that shocked him. The boy samurai had never seen anything so lovely in his seventeen years of living; certainly, no woman could ever rival the actor's enchanting features. The makeup, though gaudy and overdone for the theatre, truly brought out the eyes, the impossibly high cheekbones, the overall beautiful structure of his face! It was more than a man could handle! Praying that no one noticed the blush on his face and the inexplicable bulge in his hakama, he loudly apologized for intruding and made himself scarce as the stage messenger chased him back out onto the snow.

The play itself intrigued the boy, and often times left him scratching his large head of hair in confusion. He found himself tuning Sora out as he focused on the plot. Though certainly long and drawn out, Taichi began to wonder who the protagonist was. The priests seemed to be the ones who had the most wrong done to them, especially the young one, with whom the snake-woman was enamored. _But weren't they the ones who stayed over? I guess you're just supposed to show that kind of respect to priests_, he pondered with a furrowed brow. _I wonder if that's supposed to make you a better person._

He thought, perhaps, that Kiyohime wasn't quite to blame either, though she was quite the seductive little thing. The _onnagata_'s blue eyes were mischievous and full of passionate hunger as he flirted with the handsome priest. This man was unbelievable as he made Kiyohime come alive with his coy banter, and though his voice was as deep as a man's is expected to be, its quality was so smooth and lusty that it worked well with the character. This made Taichi squirm in his seat, uncomfortable with his reaction. Sora scolded him for fidgeting so much as he watched. "Taichi, are you paying attention?" he heard her whisper. _Of course I am_, he thought to himself, the look on his face so taut with seriousness that it was rather humorous.

Whenever Kiyohime was onstage, he couldn't take his eyes off of the impossibly graceful actor, even when he was transformed into a demon of a snake. The way the onnagata slithered around the bell was strangely erotic, though the anguish he displayed for his lost love was striking. Kiyohime had stuck out her pink tongue to express snake-like behavior, but embraced the bell as if it were the priest she had fallen for so hopelessly. He was on the verge of coming to a conclusion when the play ended with the priest and Kiyohime ascending to heaven after death. There was something he didn't quite like about this ending, and he sat there, brows still locked in a manner that made him look terribly confused. _So the priest saved the day in the end, because the young priest's soul was polluted with Kiyohime's rage and desire. But he still ends up getting the girl even though he was supposedly wronged? This is one crazy play,_ Taichi thought. _I can't even tell if I like this or not. It feels right, but somehow wrong. So confusing!_

Desperate for an answer, he turned to Sora after the applause had died (he had given a standing ovation, despite Sora's embarrassed pleas for him not to make a spectacle of himself). "So who was the bad guy, anyway?" he asked.

The auburn-haired girl raised her eyebrows in surprise. Without skipping a beat, she replied, "It was Kiyohime, you silly boy. She was the one who had caused all that grief. If she had just stuck to her role of caretaker and kept her feelings to herself, none of that would have happened."

"But there wouldn't have been a story," Taichi complained.

"Well, of course not, but that's why it's called a story!" Sora said with a kind smile. "People don't actually feel that way. Forbidden love is something great to talk about, but it's forbidden for a reason."

_So you wanted to watch the play because it's great to think about forbidden things?_ Taichi was still confused, but he shrugged it off as Sora stood, adjusting her sunflower-colored kimono and looking at her date with an expectant look. He bowed his head hurriedly and pulled himself off the bench quickly, ignoring the blood that rushed to his head after sitting for so long. For some reason, he thought of Kiyohime wrapping herself around him, steadying his body, and he quickly felt better. They walked together, maintaining a respectable distance from each other that society enforced. They were close enough to look as if they were an item, but not so close that they looked intimate. Taichi longed to break the rules, for what he wanted was warmth, but the maintained distance only magnified the cold of the winter. Sighing to himself, he reported that he would meet her family after he took a walk.

He walked her to her mother's house on Hanamikoji, near the Kennin-ji Temple. They went at a brisk pace, mainly because Taichi didn't know what to talk about, and because Sora, though a self-proclaimed tomboy, was still too lady-like to begin a conversation herself. Within fifteen minutes she was home. "Mother wants you to have a look at her ikebana projects," Sora said, trying to hide her lack of interest. Though her mother was renowned for her exquisite skill in floral arrangement, Sora had no intention of following in her footsteps. Taichi knew this well; they had been friends since childhood before he moved toward the capitol at Edo. Thus, he simply nodded at Sora's invitation, and said he'd see her later after he completed his nightly walk.

"What, walking me home isn't enough?" she said with a laugh. "Well, okay, hurry back, then."

Smiling despite the jumble that his head was in after the play, Taichi waved and started his trek. He decided to go back to Gion and make his way to Sanjo Street, where he had lived as a boy. The air was refreshing after leaving Sora at home, even though he had been walking her home the entire time. There was something pleasant about walking on one's lonesome, something that allowed him to clear his head.

Dojoji was a splendid production, though not the first he'd seen. He vaguely recalled seeing it when he was much, much younger, when his grandfather held a high position as a shogun. Once upon a time the samurai were looked upon as middle-class citizens, but once the Edo period began, they held more power than they had ever known. Because of this, Grandfather Yagami decided to treat his family to see a Noh play.

It was absolutely one of the most boring things Taichi had ever been to. Age may have had something to do with the lack of interest, but Noh in itself was something that was meant to be enjoyed by those considered to be "highly refined". Kabuki was fast-paced and exciting, whereas Noh was cruelly slow. The production Taichi had seen tonight lasted only slightly longer than an two hours; the Noh version he had seen as a child literally took up six hours of his time. From a child's perspective, if the activity wasn't an enjoyable one, each minute that they labored through felt like an hour: so in little Taichi's mind, the Noh version of Dojoji was roughly 700 hours long. He remembered hoping that he would never be one of those rich, refined people if it meant that Noh was the only socially acceptable entertainment available. Perhaps this was why he was not as fond of art as he ought to be.

The falling snow resembled the lightest of cherry blossoms. He opened his mouth and caught a few of the snowflakes, imagining that they tasted like the sweet mochi that his mother made in the beginning of winter. The cold assailed his skin under his single _gi_ layer, but he didn't mind. He put himself through mental training, and the coldest winter or hottest summer didn't faze him. His parents often remarked that he was a ball of energy that could not be leashed.

Content to be lost in thought, he found himself back at the theatre, with only a mile or so until Sanjo. It was quiet now that everyone had left, and the building, bathed in the powder-like snow, had a peaceful air to it. He looked up at it admiringly, unconsciously letting his hand slip onto the hilt of his sword. He was surprised to feel a soft, cold, satiny feel instead of steel, and looked down at it. A red ribbon was wrapped around it in a complex fashion, and for a moment, he had forgotten where it had come from. Letting his fingers search for the origin of the fabric, he suddenly remembered the day he received his sword. It had been passed down from father to son for generations, named _Guren'imon_ for the flower-like crimson it would draw out of its victims, and the condolences for the dead. It was a sword meant for slaying out of justice, only given to those who displayed courage and respect for the fallen - allies and enemies alike. At the end of the ribbon, a small bell charm, not unlike the one in Dojoji, hung proudly.

The Yagami family had a samurai in every generation, and they maintained good relations with the head priest of the Kodaiji Temple. Before they took on the surname Yagami, their family history traced them as descendants of the Toyotomi clan. Several generations of broken lineages and familial arguments led to the decision for several branches to change their surnames to protect their identities. Thus, the connection between the Yagamis and the Kidous, who established the temple in the name of Toyotomi Hideyoshi, was expected. The bell on Taichi's sword was crafted by the Kidou child of his generation, Jyou. Custom called for it; each Toyotomi descendant carried similar bells crafted by the Kodaiji home after Hideyoshi's death. Taichi remembered the slightly older boy to be a bit of a perfectionist, well-read, and devoted (or perhaps afraid) to keeping menacing spirits at bay.

_The bell is supposed to protect you,_ Jyou had said, frowning at his work. He was twelve, and Taichi was eleven at the time. _It's supposed to call out the gift of sound, of beautiful voices, so that if you get injured to a point hazardously close to death, the voice will bring you back before your light's out._

Taichi hadn't thought about the importance of the bell since he had gotten it, mainly because he received it in a way only a child could; he was rambunctious and had swung the charm around his head as if it were a lasso, whooping loudly as he climbed up a nearby tree. Jyou looked as if he were going to have a heart attack, clutching dark blue strands of hair as if to pull them out when he saw what Taichi was doing. Taichi's father promptly had him apologize to the older boy; he had fallen off the tree, and his father explained that it was divine punishment for treating such a sacred object so crudely. Perhaps this scolding is why he had forgotten the incident until now. Or perhaps it was because he fell on his head, his large hair sustaining much of the impact.

Now the bell held an additional meaning: the first time he ever felt moved by art. It was all thanks to the Dojoji production, and he was not even expecting to like it. He was certain that he would fall asleep halfway through and had plenty of excuses that he would feed to Sora in such an event. But he enjoyed it thoroughly! Taichi felt that he was on his way to becoming a true samurai, the sort that could cut a person down whether he was armed with a sword or words. Dojoji and the _onnagata_ ignited the part of his brain that craved art and appreciated it for what it was truly worth. His heart felt a thousand times warmer now that it was exposed to such beauty.

His ears perked up when he heard the soft crunching of snow nearby. It was a set of steady footsteps heading out of the theatre; from the sound of it, the person seemed to be carrying something rather large, as they were the careful steps of a person trying to maintain their balance. He padded his way quietly around to see who was leaving the theatre last. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and sporting a forest-green kimono was a striking boy carrying a koto with ease. Taichi knew in an instant from the way the boy walked (and the fact that he sported the wieldy instrument, which the old man bragged about at the end of the play) that this was the onnagata actor who played the tragically lovely Kiyohime. His heart began to race. _I should acknowledge him,_ he thought fervently. _After all, dad always said that you need to reward good work. And that was some damn good work. I've got to say something._

Without giving it a second thought, he called out to the boy and gave him the bell around his sword. He sputtered some words about how it was his first time seeing a play (a lie, because he did not want to ramble more than he already was), and how he'd never forget such a grand performance. And that was that. Sora had taken the liberty of taking some friends with her and followed Taichi shortly after he left. He wanted to speak with the boy a while longer; there was something serene in his calm demeanor that helped inhibit Taichi's abnormally high energy level, and he felt drawn to him without much explanation. All he could do was wave and pray that he would be able to see him perform again.

Now, almost an entire year later, word of Yamato's inspired performances finally reached Taichi's ears. It so happened that the actor lived in Odaiba, where Taichi had resided for the past five years of his life, the entire time! It was bashfully impossible that he hadn't heard it sooner, but the boy samurai was not one to keep up with the gossip of the town. He would be performing tonight, in the very ward where he lived for the annual _hanami_. Though he doubted the boy would remember him, Taichi was excited nonetheless. The year they parted was a year he spent reflecting on his life. He had actually tried his hand at poetry, and went back to his laughable attempts at painting. But he felt as if another sense was unlocked in his brain, and the colors of the world seemed hundreds of times more vivid than before.

He was told it was thoughtful to give a girl poetry, and that it was an acceptable form of flattery and flirting in the literary world, so he often wrote Sora a few lines to compliment her beauty. She accepted them, blushing each time, though never replied to them. She seemed to reject them, but he didn't mind as much as he thought he would. Just getting the words out of his system and making them flow stimulated his mind, and the walks he would take before and afterward made him feel so refreshed at the end of the day. He invited her to Yamato's performance, and they went together as they had done in Gion. "Yamato, huh?" she said, a mysterious look of familiarity on her face. "Sure, I'll go!"

Somehow, he felt nervous. The entirety of his morning filled his stomach with a knot of anxiety, and he found it difficult to appreciate the fully-bloomed cherry blossom trees. He decided that the curious feeling was typical of someone about to meet a celebrity of sorts. Elation flowed through his veins as if his blood were replaced with a certain fiery liquid he had partaken of earlier in the year. He had to take several deep breaths before he could reach a point that could be accepted as calmed down, and presently he knelt on the bamboo mat that Sora had laid out for them. The sky was clear and cloudless, its pale blue hues stretching until eternity; it was a striking complement to the bright pinks and whites of the cherry blossoms. It made for an alluring sight. The air that he breathed was crisp and fresh with the soft floral scent of the trees mixed in with the hubbub of _hanami_-goers and their picnic baskets filled with fried goods. The day was still young, and it would be a while before the performance. _I might as well relax,_ Taichi thought, accepting a shot of the warm sake Sora poured for him.

Before long, his jolliness was marked by the redness of his face and his arm around his childhood friend. "Sora, this is so great," he said boisterously. "The flowers, they're so, they're so...y'know!"

"At a loss for words now, are we?" Sora giggled. "To think you were jotting poetry for me just the other day!"

He stuffed a rice ball into his mouth, chewing happily, savouring the salty taste of the rice with the sour pickled plum hidden inside. It certainly was a nice day. All his worries were being washed down by the sharp smell of alcohol and filling his stomach with Sora's decent cooking. _Nothing like my mother's,_ he remarked to himself as he brought a piece of chicken to his lips. _But it'll do._

Dozens of merchants started to pour into the park. They set up their stands, each one boasting that they made the best _okonomiyaki, takoyaki, taiyaki, odango_ - the best of everything, they would shout along with their booming voices. Taichi loved festivals because they were so loud and happy. No one was brooding, no one thought of how the quickly the world was changing, and no one thought about anything but having a good time. The fried foods kept them fat and jubilant, and people would bring instruments from home to play, whether they knew how to or not. The sights and sounds were resplendent, and perfect for elevating the mood. Sora was next to him, laughing at her own jokes, or chuckling for no reason at all. Who could despise such an event?

His answer came in the form of Yamato, who was walking toward an older man that sat under a cherry tree not too far from Taichi's mat. The blonde was looking sullen and annoyed; he probably did not appreciate a bunch of drunken old samurai and merchants tooting crudely-crafted wooden flutes. He saw the musician sit down next to the man after resting his koto on the ground, and the two began talking. Taichi looked up at the sky. He was startled to find that the blues were now the oranges and purples of sundown. How long had they been there? He couldn't even tell. The sudden realization that time was still hurrying along sobered the brunette, and he shook his head. Sora was asleep; somehow he had even failed to notice that her friends, Mimi, Miyako, and Koushiro had joined them at some point in the day. Koushiro was the only one who was still awake out of the group. "How long were you guys here, Izumi?" Taichi asked, puzzled.

The redhead grinned, looking up from a strange contraption that he was tinkering with. "Hitting the sake again, Taichi?" Izumi Koushiro replied. "We got here about three hours ago. You were still red-faced, drunk, and shouting to the world that Sora was your favorite bird."

"Huh," Taichi tilted his head up, chuckling and feeling ridiculous. "Guess I got a little carried away. But uh, you know, I haven't seen you in a while. What brought you here?"

"_Hanami_. You know. Flower-viewing? It's what everyone else is doing here," Koushiro said with a raised brow and an amused look. "I assume that's why you're here, too."

"Well, actually, I wanted to hear the koto player."

Both of Koushiro's brows were now raised in ardent surprise. "What? Taichi, coming to a festival, not for your favorite fried food and getting drunk, but for musical pleasure? That is not what I expected at all," he set his work down. "How did you come to know of Yamato?"

Taichi explained that he and Sora had journeyed to Gion to visit her mother, and the kabuki play happened to be advertised when they had arrived. As Koushiro listened, the long-haired Tachikawa Mimi yawned and got up sleepily, resting her face on her hands. "It almost sounds like you're in love," she mumbled, wiping the sleep from her eyes. "You talk about this Yamato like he's some sort of deity!"

"Wh-What do you know," Taichi retorted. "So I started writing poetry! So what. You don't have to assume such crazy things."

Brushing the caramel-colored hair out of her eyes, she lifted the sleeves of her pink kimono and went back to carrying her face in her hands as she studied her friend. "Hmm, sure, okay," she said. The high pitch of her voice never annoyed Taichi as much as it did that moment. "Oh, look! Isn't that him over there, tuning his koto?"

Taichi spun around clumsily and landed on his shoulder, the alcohol not quite out of his system yet. While Mimi and Koushiro laughed, he positioned himself and saw that Yamato was indeed tuning his koto. He probably did not move the entire time; Taichi believed that the boy must have been plucking each string of the koto a dozen times, fighting for some peace and quiet as he did so. _You won't find it during a festival,_ he thought. Running a hand through his hair, he pushed himself off the ground and bravely made his way to the musician against the shocked derisive warnings from his friends.

"What is he doing?" he heard Mimi squeak as he walked off. "He's crazy! I didn't mean he should actually go up and talk to him! No one just...no one just goes up to a musician, especially one who's going to perform, especially one who's _headlining_ the night, oh my goodness, oh my goodness..."

But they were far from earshot now, and he was only a few steps from the boy. The old man looked up first. "May we help you?" he asked in a gruff voice.

"I just, uh, wanted to say hi!" Taichi smiled, a hand behind his head in embarrassment. Perhaps this was a bad idea after all, especially after he noticed that their tree was relatively devoid of a crowd.

Yamato looked up suddenly, his blue eyes connecting with Taichi's. He felt his heart rate increase, and the little voice in his head began to scream, _This was definitely a bad idea!_ How could anyone possess such an unearthly loveliness? "I remember you," the boy said, his deep, somber voice as clear as a bell.

"Yamato?" The older man scrutinized Taichi, and after a moment of awkward silence, gave a grunt of approval. He shifted his body ever so slightly, but Taichi didn't notice. He remembers me! was all that he could think of now.

"He is a kind boy. He gave me this after my Dojoji performance," he said, pulling the bell charm from his kimono with a smile. "Thanks again."

"Y-You kept it," Taichi said, meaning to phrase it as a question. "That's...thank you. Great. Yes. Good."

The blonde laughed. "You're a strange one."

Taichi shuffled uncomfortably, wondering how he could continue the conversation. It was still sunset, and people were getting louder by the minute. The stage near the front of the park wasn't even set up yet. "Why are you just sitting here?" he blurted out.

"He's tuning his koto," the old man said. "Isn't it obvious? What's your name, boy?"

"Uhm, Yagami. I'm Yagami Taichi," he responded quickly. "Sorry," he added. He wasn't sure why he was apologizing, but to him it sounded like every word out of the older man's mouth was a form of criticism. The man could have been reciting a recipe for mochi and he would have made children cry, making them feel guilty for one reason or another. Yamato didn't seem to be moved, though.

"Master Kengyo, please. It's all right. Let him speak. I think my koto is tuned well enough," Yamato said, plucking the strings as proof. Each note rang true, and even though he wasn't even playing a tune, Taichi couldn't help but feel that he was already listening to a masterpiece. "Anyway. Yagami, yes? I was just tuning my koto, as my master kindly pointed out. Are you here for the festivities?"

"Yeah, I come here every year for _hanami_. But this time I really wanted to go because I heard that you were playing tonight." A slight blush appeared on the blonde's face. Did Taichi just imagine it? He set the idea aside and continued the conversation. "Now that you're done, are you going to go and get some food and stuff too? 'Tis the season, you know."

Yamato's smile faltered momentarily, and he gave Taichi an apologetic nod of the head. "I'm not really fond of these things. Too loud, you know."

"And I don't let him," Master Kengyo said with a guffaw.

"Really, it's not just that," Yamato continued, his annoyance growing more obvious. "Too many drunk people. Too many smells, sounds, sights. It just gives me a headache. I can't stand it."

Taichi thought that Yamato must have never had a day of fun in his life. He was still standing before them, but now he felt his knees grow weak with Yamato's disgust with his surroundings. Yamato and Kengyo noticed and offered him a seat, but instead of taking it, he looked straight into Yamato's eyes. The look on his face defined his absolute bewilderment. He had hoped that his eyes would communicate that celebrations like this were meant to raise the spirits of the living, to promote goodwill toward each other, to laugh and have fun, but to no avail. Instead, all he could say was, "Please, take a walk with me. I swear, it isn't that bad, and if you hate it, we can come right back to your tuning. It's just," he rambled. "Why do I feel like you've never had fun in your whole life?

Surprised, Yamato remained still. He looked at Kengyo, who looked equally stunned, and hesitated. A cool demeanor spread over the boy's body like a wave, and he nodded. "I'll be right back, then, Master Kengyo," he said, standing. His master looked back at him incredulously, and for a moment Taichi was afraid that he would force Yamato to stay; he relaxed when the man simply waved them off, as if they were two flies interrupting his teatime.

The boys became fast friends after entering the festival fray. Yamato was inclined to stay on the quiet side more often than not, but the talkative Taichi managed to bring the boy out of his shell with little effort. The use of sake was not necessary, in this case. Taichi flit from topic to topic, asking Yamato about how he felt during Dojoji, how he came to enjoy the koto, and what his favorite food would be, never sitting on one long enough for his new friend to elaborate. The musician seemed to be comfortable with this exchange, and so was the samurai. Taichi had a natural gift for making friends, and his many acquaintances would agree that this was due to his reckless run-ins with people all over the country. The brunette was never the type to be afraid to speak, and others naturally flocked to him. Taichi was not aware of this talent, but was always glad to befriend someone new.

They went up and down the booths twice, a bond of mischief already forming between the two. A cabbage merchant had wandered into the festival, looking frightful at all the rowdy, drunken crowds. He was probably delivering more stock for the okonomiyaki stands; the delicious pancakes required both batter and thinly-chopped cabbage strips for the base. Because it was Taichi's favorite festival food, he made certain not to knock the cart over. Unfortunately, Yamato decided to initiate a game of tag, with the largest tree toward the edge of the block party as the home base. The other boy had a head start, and was quickly becoming a small dot in Taichi's field of vision. _He runs fast for someone who says he hates athletics!_ he thought with a satisfied grin. Not to be outdone, Taichi made a mad dash after him, knocking over the cabbage cart in the process. With a quick "Sorry!" he continued bounding after the blonde. He could have sworn he heard something along the lines of _"MY CABBAGES!"_ in the background, but he couldn't be bothered with such trivial matters.

Before long, both boys reached the tree, Yamato gasping for breath and Taichi barely looking tired. They laughed, stumbling over themselves to have a seat on the dusty ground, almost to the point of tears. It was at that moment that Taichi had to know. "Yamato," he said seriously, pushing himself up and looking down at his new friend. "Why does it feel like you've never had a day of fun in your life before? You're just...it seems like this is the first time you've ever done something like this."

Letting his laughter recede into a quiet chuckle, Yamato remained sitting and tilted his head up to the sky, exhaling silently. Though only mere seconds had passed, Taichi felt that he was trapped in Yamato's mind, burdened with the weight of years and years of loneliness. Uncomfortable and feeling sheepish, Taichi fiddled with his sword hilt absently, the tip hitting the ground with a soft rhythm. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Didn't mean to bring it up...didn't know it was a touchy subject...ah...so, clouds...! And...cherry blossoms..." He was rattling off nonsense when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay," Yamato said, voice somber but strong. "You're right, though. This is the first time I've ever really had a friend. The first time I've ever really..._run around_ like that. With anyone. There's nothing to be sorry about. It's just...it's nice, you know?"

Taichi wasn't sure how to respond. What a sad life the musician must have led! As a samurai, he trained with many other boys his age. They ate together, slept in a communal dorm, and practiced as a team every day, from morning til night. There was always someone to talk to, someone to laugh with. Company was always abundant before they all went their separate ways, and even then, they would keep in touch. Why, he was even familiar with many acolytes in the temples because of his affiliation with Kodaiji, and they weren't even that fond of him because he was so loud! Was it possible that Yamato had only really talked to only his master for the majority of his life? As if reading his mind, Yamato nodded his head after a short period of silence. "It's nice," he repeated.

"Don't you miss anyone?" Taichi asked, keeping his voice low, unsure of how he should carry himself in the conversation. He felt humbled by the artist.

"I have a younger brother." Yamato replied slowly. "I haven't seen him in a long time."

"I have a younger sister. I'm her older brother. I can't even imagine a world where I won't be able to protect her." Adjusting his indigo robes, he instinctively reached for his sword. "I always want to be by her side, you know? How could I possibly go on, not knowing where she is or how she's doing?"

Yamato smiled, and Taichi was glad to see that. He hated to see his new friend look so depressed. "I feel the same way. I love my brother. I'd do anything to protect him, too. That's just how we are as big brothers, right?" He got up slightly and dusted off his bottom, and knelt down on his knees instead as was considered proper. "But sometimes I wish I had a big brother too, you know? I can't even see my little brother anymore. I don't know where he is, or even how to contact him."

Standing up, Taichi offered his hand to the beautiful boy, who took it without question. Yamato was hurting, and it was in Taichi's nature to do something about it. By now they were far enough from the festival to achieve an aura of quietude, though still close enough to rush back in time for Yamato's performance. Before long they reached a place where they could see shoreline of the artificial island. A bright red _torii_ loomed over the place like a shield, and they exchanged few words as they made their way to the only shrine in Odaiba. People's wishes were written down on wooden ema and hung neatly on a short, singular wall with small pieces of string. The boys glazed over some of the wooden cards with mild interest. _Please give my husband health, please let me find a suitable bride, please let me go to America._ Dozens upon dozens of simple wishes that the gods around them were supposed to grant! To be a god must not have allowed for bouts of laziness, for there would be many unhappy people in the world.

A powerful gust of wind descended upon the island. Several ema threatened to blow off of their hooks and hinges, and the boys found themselves huddling their bodies together in shock, trying to defend themselves from the dust that was now flying all around them. It was far too early for the rains to come; the wind was uncharacteristic of the season! And yet within a few seconds, all was still. It was as if Mother Nature herself decided to change her mind. Eyes widened and visibly startled, Yamato and Taichi slowly separated themselves from each other as they looked around, making sure that the wind had indeed stopped. Taichi looked around, wondering if perhaps some tricky spirit had decided to play a practical joke on them the way they did in his father's stories. "Wh...what the hell was that?" Taichi shouted aloud, not expecting an answer.

But Yamato was looking at the ground. "Look here," he murmured, stooping down to pick something up.

Taichi's eyes followed the boy's voice and noticed the peculiarity of their surroundings. Though the wind was strong, none of the ema had been blown off of the wall. With the direction and strength of the zephyr, it was strange that everything hadn't been felled. As Taichi ambled closer to where Yamato was, he found that there were actually two of the wooden prayers were strewn at their feet. Yamato held one in the palm of his hand, so Taichi picked up the other. _That's odd,_ Taichi thought, heart still beating from the temperamental weather as he scanned the ema. _There's only one word on this..."courage"...? What kind of a prayer is only one word long? Courage for what?_

"Hey, Yamato, what's yours say?"

"Ah...well, it's...it's only got one word. 'Friendship'," he replied, looking as puzzled as Taichi. "Not the longest prayer I've seen, certainly..."

"Weird. Mine only says one thing too: 'courage'. Should we hang them back up?"

Before they had a chance to find out where the tiles had fallen from, the groan of an audience snapped them back to reality. Yamato's performance would not wait for their investigation of the weather. The boys sprinted back to the festival square, where Master Kengyo was waiting with an irate expression on his leathery face. "You're late," he growled. "Where were you?"

Yamato shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, nudging Taichi off the stage. He shooed him away with a look that the brown-haired boy understood immediately, and he ran to his friends, who were saving a seat for him in the crowd. He saw Yamato shut his eyes and set a gentle hand onto his koto. _I hope he'll be able to play all right,_ Taichi prayed. _That was no ordinary wind. Please, please, give him some concentration. It'll be my fault if he messes up. I took him so far away from the stage...what a stupid thing to do!_

But there was nothing to be afraid of. Yamato was an accomplished musician, and a little stress did nothing to alter his playing style. He began with the opening notes to a song Taichi had never heard before, and before he could ask the others what they thought of the freak weather incident, the soothing sounds of Yamato's fingers on the strings filled the celebratory air. All at once, the crowd hushed. Even the vendors stopped the clanking of their metal pots and pans to listen to the performance. And to everyone's surprise, after a lengthy musical introduction, Yamato actually began to sing along with the music, his voice crystalline clear and heartbreakingly surreal. Taichi was amazed. He could barely distinguish the koto's voice with Yamato's; it was as if he were floating in a dream.

_Cherry blossoms, cherry blossoms_

_On meadow-hills and mountains_

_As far as you can see._

_Is it a mist, or are they the clouds?_

_Fragrant in the morning sun._

The sound of applause thundered from the audience as Yamato finished playing his song. As he bowed and glided across the stage like a whisper, the clapping continued, along with some choked sobs. Taichi himself had been moved to tears, and he did his best not to blubber as he cheered for his new friend. Perhaps Yamato didn't need a prayer at all. Perhaps the bell charm really did have the power to call forth the gift of sound and beautiful voices, as Kidou Jyou promised Taichi so long ago.

The _ema_ of friendship and courage were tucked in the boys' respective kimonos, close to their hearts and oblivious to the world around them. Filled with such strong emotions of pride and beauty, the boys were unaware of the faint glow of warmth that emitted from the wooden tiles.

* * *

><p><strong>Notes:<strong>

1. I chose to base the story around the year 1867, which is just before the Meiji Restoration. At this point, Commodore Perry and his ships have already entered the country, and in due time, Japan will look toward modernization. Samurai are quickly losing their political power at this point. The Edo period gave quite a bit of power to samurai, who were part of the Bakufu (a branch of government ruled by a family of samurai). Since the age is waning, Taichi feels like he is born in the wrong time period.  
>2. Hakama and gi are traditional Japanese garments used mainly in forms of martial arts. It is essentially a heavy top and fancy pants. A kimono, on the other hand, consists of only one piece. Tabi are the socks with only two holes for your toes, but for soldiers, you can easily have one that's reinforced for fighting and braving the snow.<br>3. Bun bu ryo do essentially means "literary arts and military arts, together". All samurai were expected to be trained in both arts.  
>4. Ninjutsu and bushido are two different words entirely. Ninjutsu is the apparent techniques associated with ninjas, while bushido is more of a code of conduct rather than a fighting style, and governs the lifestyle of the samurai.<br>5. I named the sword "Guren'imon" because a. it was close to "Gureimon", which is "Greymon"; and b. I had to add an extra "n" because there is no kanji I'm aware of that is "gurei"...and the two characters mean "crimson flower" and "condolences". I doubt they actually work together that way when shoved together...  
>6. Most powerful families in Japanese history are littered with drama in terms of bloodline, so it was not surprising to see whole branches have their surname "disowned", or for them to change surnames to avoid political conflict.<br>7. Hanami consists of the characters for "flower" and "to look", so it is literally "flower-watching". This is a common occurrence in Japan when the cherry blossoms bloom, and it's often enough reason to go out and party. Foods like okonomiyaki (a pizza-like pancake), takoyaki (octopus dumplings), taiyaki (waffles shaped like fish and stuffed with red bean, among other things), and odango (Japanese dumpling, often sweet).  
>8. I don't condone underage drinking, but this was common back in the day.<br>9. See what I did with the cabbage merchant? Now you all know I'm a big fan of Avatar: The Last Airbender (the Cabbage Merchant is absolutely not my character and this is my disclaimer).  
>10. Ema are small wooden tiles that people paint their wishes and prayers onto, and then leave at shrines.<br>11. Odaiba is an artificial island in Tokyo Bay, built in 1855 as a defense fortress against attack. I'm not actually sure if people were allowed to live there at this point in time, but for the story's sake...well, they do.  
>12. The song lyrics are from a traditional Japanese song called "Sakura", but it actually wasn't written until 1888. Let's just say Yamato's a genius and someone else stole his idea for the story's purposes.<p>

Again, thank you for the reviews! I'm having quite a bit of trouble when it comes to writing out conversations, so I hope I did those boys justice. Let me know how this was for you all! Taito forever! Yeah! Time to groove.


	3. Chapter 3: Histories

**Ukiyo ~ Floating World  
>Chapter 3: Histories<strong>

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Digimon or any of its respective characters and such. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction devoted to the absolute perfection of my OTP.  
><strong>Author's NotesThanks:** Since I majored in Japanese, I added bits and pieces of Japanese literature and history throughout the work. Footnotes are provided for the readers' convenience. However, Japanese history was not my strength, so if something seems a little off, please don't hesitate to correct me. And thank you so much for the lovely reviews! I'm doing my research as best as I can. If anything is amiss...my apologies, and please correct me! The names are written in the traditional surname-forename structure.

* * *

><p>The sun gleamed through the cloudless sky mercilessly upon the island. A symphony of cicadas chirped merrily, a sure sign of summer. A slight breeze swept through the stale air, but the two teenage boys sitting close to the ocean bore no mind to the heat. The brunette licked his lips and savoured the salt from the ocean spray as he spoke with his blonde friend about anything that came to mind. Careful not to initiate a conversation too deep for the pleasant weather, Taichi was apt to tell Yamato about the skirmishes and follies that occurred when he was a younger boy learning the way of the sword. Though he didn't look it, the blonde boy was easy to humour, and Taichi enjoyed making his new friend smile. Before long, the heat had gotten the better of them and they shed their outer clothes and descended into the water. The water welcomed them, their laughter ringing along the empty beach, damp hair hanging clumsily over their eyes. They raced along the shallower parts, cutting a straight watery path through the sea with their strong legs.<p>

An hour or so had passed before their noticed their hunger. They swam back to the beach and spread themselves on the hot sand, wincing at first, then relaxing. Yamato lazily motioned to a small package of rice balls that he had made for their outing, but Taichi's eyes were already shut tight and the snoring began. He looked back up to the sky, feeling the sun dry the droplets of ocean on his skin and exchanging them for light beads of sweat. Taichi's chest rose and fell steadily, and Yamato couldn't help but smile. Being with the samurai made him feel warm and wanted. So this was friendship! It was certainly something he could get used to. They had spent much time together after his performance, and though he was able to answer to much of Taichi's small-talk coolly, he found that he was not a man of many words. Taichi had gone out into the world several times and knew how the government worked. Yamato, on the other hand, barely strayed from his koto lessons, having devoted every hour of the day to the instrument. As a result, Yamato's knowledge of Japan was limited to what he knew up until he was seven, and when he traveled the Tokaido road to Kyoto.

The stories that Taichi told were his only source of news, outdated as they may have been. Since his Odaiba performance, Yamato requested a couple of hours to himself to enjoy the company of his friend. Master Kengyo warned him of the perils of the lack of discipline. "Your fingers will forget how to play, and your ear will no longer hear the same notes you heard when you practiced," he said to him sternly. "If you are willing to accept this, then I will honor your request."

To say that the decision was an easy one for the musician would be a grave overstatement of his character. Yamato was truly in love with music and everything it represented. Though the notes he played and the lyrics he sang were pure, he could not remain ignorant of the fact that apart from music, he knew nothing else. It was too strange for him to go up to a stranger and ask for the goings-on of the day, or even what was acceptable when it came to eating at a restaurant. He recalled an incident when he was eating ramen with his teacher. Master Kengyo raised him to be polite and succinct, and that rowdiness only brought about more rowdiness and an endless bout of stupidity. Fourteen at the time, Yamato grew annoyed with a drunk patron and loudly reprimanded him for it. His younger self was immediately struck down with the hilt of the drunkard's sword. "Y'dumb brat," the man dribbled, hiccuping as he spoke. "Keep yer nose...in yer own bidness! I once killed a man using just a ramen bowl and a bottle of _matcha_ powder!" He went on with his tirade, but Yamato was still reeling from the pain of the strike to his abdomen. From then on, Yamato vowed not to speak to people unless absolutely necessary. People were difficult to tune, unlike a koto.

Yamato considered the mishap along with plenty of other tales of his inability to communicate after taking up lodgings and lessons with Master Kengyo. As a child, it was certainly easier to charm adults into doing what he wanted! Though he still spoke smoothly today, societal things proved to be millions of times more difficult as he matured. Women of all ages would swoon over him, but he found their gossipy presence to be more of a nuisance than anything else. When he thought he was in the process of befriending boys his age, they instead found him too feminine and too weak; when he spoke of his work with the koto, they'd claim that he was a braggart. The less rambunctious boys, prone to quiet study, would snidely remark that times were changing, and he should be spending his precious practice hours reading up on foreign affairs instead. And those devoted to the Buddhist Way would shake their heads sadly and say that he was too attached to the world.

It was in this growing sense of loneliness that swayed the kotoist's decision to take the time to get to know Taichi. He was strict about the amount of time he would spend away from his instrument, and he never wavered in his discipline. In fact, spending time with another human aside from his master was a rejuvenating experience, and in many ways, he felt that his heart would play along with his fingers when he resumed practice. Slowly but surely, Yamato was learning more than he had ever known his entire life.

Taichi stirred next to him, now awake. The samurai boy yawned heartily, shaking sand from his nest of hair. "Whoops, sorry, must've dozed off," he drawled with a crooked smile. "Where're those rice balls you packed?"

Still lying down, Yamato grabbed the bag and threw it at his friend. "Eh, you're too far," he complained, returning the smile. "It's filled with grilled salmon, by the way."

"Yum! My favorite!" Taichi undid the fabric, pulled out one of the sizable _onigiri_, and took a big bite out of it. He made a happy sound of satisfaction as the salted rice touched his tongue. "Did you make this?" he asked, mouth full. "'S really good! So, so good! Just like my mom makes!"

"Of course I made it," Yamato smirked. "I know my way around the kitchen."

"You're a good man, Mr. - hey, wait, what's your family name, anyway? Or are you one of those artists that only go by that one name?"

Yamato hesitated. Would the samurai be familiar with the Ishida name? He couldn't be sure, but he decided to risk it. "Ah...it's Ishida."

As Taichi choked and coughed on the rice ball in response, Yamato realized that mentioning his surname was a mistake. "Ishida? As in _the_ _Ishida Mitsunari_?" Stuffing the rest of the food into his mouth, he crawled over to Yamato's side and got uncomfortably close, staring into his eyes. "Don't lie, because I can tell when people lie when I do this!"

"Uh, er, can you - could you back up a bit?" Yamato said, raising his hand as if to push the boy away. "You're too close!"

"Don't lie! You're hiding it!" Taichi leaned in even closer, his stare getting more intense; he looked like a madman, though it was not nearly as serious as he believed.

"Taichi...!"

He had overreached the limits of his lean and fell onto Yamato. Still only in their undergarments, the feeling of skin on skin made the slim musician's face blush an intense red; Taichi's equally slim yet muscled body was firm against his. For a moment, the blonde felt an odd sensation of arousal. Perhaps it was the salty summer air, the sound of the waves crashing against the beach, the camaraderie of their earlier moments. Unsure of how to process the physical reaction, Yamato stayed stock still under the samurai, his breath languid as his brain calculated the correct response. There was no need for embarrassment: they had chosen a very remote location, a spot that Taichi discovered during his many impulsive adventures. There were no trees or large rocks to hide behind, so it was easy to spot a person spying upon them. Indeed, there was no need for anger, either, for the samurai did nothing out of aggression aside from stare at him too hard. Hours seemed to pass, but only a few seconds had gone by. Why did the world feel the need to speed up time? Yamato wasn't sure, and was decidedly confused about whatever he was feeling at the moment. "S-Sorry," Taichi stuttered, getting up. There was a sense of hesitation as he did so, but Yamato did not want to assume anything, and remained silent.

Face hot, Yamato found himself unable to form a reply. He was still lying there while Taichi was sitting up, now facing away from him. Finally remembering how to breathe, Yamato eventually replied, "Please, don't worry about it. I simply didn't know that it was such a big deal. Now that's cleared up, it also wouldn't have hurt if you had just asked normally. And we also wouldn't have semi-wrestled back there," he added.

Taichi chuckled nervously, blushing as well. "Yeah, sorry. Probably could've thought that one out a little better."

"In any case...yes. I am a descendant of Ishida Mitsunari."

"Then why are you an artist?"

_Instead of a samurai, he means to say,_ Yamato thought sullenly. "Is there a problem with me being an artist instead?"

"No, no, that's not what I'm saying," Taichi said immediately. "You're a great artist. You really do have a gift. But to me, y'know, it's kind of weird. Ishida's a great bloodline. I learned all about 'em. The samurais they produce are pretty top-notch. So good, in fact, that even when your ancestor decided to betray the Tokugawa, well...Tokugawa still wanted him back! Isn't that something?"

Yamato made some sort of sound that betrayed neither a positive nor a negative answer. This was not a subject he was comfortable talking about, and yet Taichi's voice did not have the scornful tone his father had about the Ishida name. The samurai genuinely sounded interested in Yamato's choice. Yamato was surprised at how well-versed the brunette was in samurai history; the entire time he was thinking, Taichi was going on and on about the past in terms of hundreds of years. The musician was duly impressed at the amount of knowledge the hyper boy possessed, and he felt himself calm down as Taichi continue to ramble. Listening to the boy was strangely put him at ease, and he found himself joining in on the conversation as the samurai came full circle with his lecture. "I can honestly say that I never really cared to know about my family's history," he said, sitting up and unwrapping a rice ball for himself. "When I was a kid, all I knew...well, all my father would tell me was that I'd have to prepare for samuraihood as soon as I was able. He had been telling me since I was a baby. All the way up until I was seven."

"What happened when you were seven?"

Yamato bit his lip. He hadn't meant to say that aloud, but there was no reason for him to hold back now. Taichi was his friend, and no one was around, in any case. Taichi scratched his head, as he often did when he felt that he overstepped a boundary, and said, "You, ah, don't have to answer - I just thought, y'know, that Kengyo couldn't have been your dad, and..."

"No, no, it's okay. You're right, Kengyo is not my father. I look more like my mom, anyway."

"She must be pretty," Taichi said with a smile. After realizing what he said, he got onto his knees and shook his hands in front of him defensively. "Ah, y'know! You know what I mean, right? Right?"

Laughing, Yamato motioned for him to relax. "Yeah, yeah. You just liked me for my makeup anyway," he replied with some difficulty as he attempted to stifle his laughter. "You're one shallow samurai, Taichi."

"Ah, shut up," Taichi muttered. "Get back to the story!"

"Mm, well. My parents aren't technically together. They split up. They weren't right for each other, not at all."

"They...they were able to get away with it?" Taichi knew that divorce was unheard of in their society. There was no way Yamato's parents could have managed it legally, without someone getting hurt or killed. Skin prickling, he immediately thought of the story of Oiwa in Yotsuya Kaidan: her treacherous husband tricked everyone into thinking she had housed another man in his stead, so he could marry a richer, younger woman. The husband forced a servant to feed her a poison which disfigured her lovely face, and in due time, he came back to curse her. She was livid, and tried to shout, but weak from the poison and from delivering their baby only recently, she had backed into his sword and died. He then nailed her dead body to a wooden board and floated her down the Kanda River. But she haunted him and killed those around him for a long time after. Taichi swallowed his terror of the ghost story and listened closely, hoping that Yamato's mother did not share the same fate.

"My mother took my younger brother with her. They fled in the dead of the night. When I realized they were gone, I figured, '_I don't want to be here either,_' and I left the next night."

"So...I'm guessing you left because you couldn't stand your dad."

"That's correct." Yamato took a small bite out of his rice ball, chewing it slowly, thinking about what he should say. "He was really happy to have had two boys. Two more samurais for the Ishida clan! He couldn't have asked for more. But he treated us like soldiers from the moment I was able to walk. Even my brother, who was still a baby, was treated with that same indifference. We were just pawns to him. We weren't human. That's what I had thought, ever since I can remember - I hated carrying swords, being forced to get up at godawful hours of the day to run for kilometers until I was close to passing out. The training made no sense to me. While he was shouting orders, I remember hearing the chirping of birds, the sound of bells in the distance...anything else aside from my father's voice."

Taichi's eyes were full of concern for the kotoist. He was having trouble comprehending such a horrible relationship with one's parents. His own childhood was a model one: a loving mother, a jovial father, an intelligent younger sister. They all got along well, and Taichi had grown up on his grandfather's lap hearing stories of heroism and justice about the Toyotomi clan and the joys of being a samurai. The bushido way was the only way for him; he couldn't dream of being anything else. Perhaps that's why he loved training with his father. Trading the clash of swords was how they had bonded. Poor Yamato was born a thinker, and that didn't bode well for him. Taichi shuddered suddenly; would he have faced the same fate if he wanted to become something other than a samurai? He said none of this to Yamato, but he found that he had the urge to hug the boy.

"But I remember hearing my mother singing a song one afternoon, when my father had left to drink. He was angry with me because I refused to kill a rabbit that had hopped into our training grounds, so I had gone home by myself. She was doing the laundry, under the cherry blossoms. And she was just singing this song about how these blossoms were everywhere."

"The song you sang at the _hanami_."

"That's right...I didn't know you listened that closely to the song." Yamato smiled at his friend. "But that's the earliest memory I have of being in love."

"..._What?_ You mean - you mean with your ma...?"

"No! What is your problem? With music, you idiot!"

"O-Oh. Right. Right, I knew that. Music. Sorry. Go on!"

Yamato flashed Taichi an annoyed look before continuing. "Anyway. I don't remember how old I was. I just kept that melody in my heart, and I would hum it to myself when I couldn't sleep, or when my father was being...well, himself. And when my mother and my younger brother disappeared, like I said - I left. The very next night. I didn't leave a note or anything, because I don't think he would have cared."

"And...you were seven when you left?"

Yamato nodded. "It was snowing. Of course, it was a stupid decision, but I decided I would find a music school or I would freeze to death. It was motivation enough. I didn't have anything to bring but my kimono and a small flute that I had crafted for myself when I was supposed to be practicing how to stab enemies. But I knew how to talk." He took another bite of his food, which seemed tasteless now that he was reliving his childhood memories. "It was dark out, and really quiet. I knew nothing of the dangers, but I think the thugs realized I had nothing on me, and I wasn't worth wasting their time on. So I decided to be bold and just ask, 'Where can I find the nearest music school?' when I entered an inn."

Keeping an eye on his one-man audience to make sure he wasn't bored, Yamato continued when he decided that Taichi looked more than alert as he listened. He continued his story. "The person who ran the place was a kind old woman. I was lucky, because she also happened to know that Yamada Kengyo had started up a koto school not too far from where I was. She made me rest, even though I had only been out for no more than two hours; I suppose when you're a child, you get a lot of things just handed to you. I think more people should be mindful of such things. You really begin to have respect for kind people like that, especially because you don't know what they've been through, either."

"So I rested, even though I didn't want to. I didn't get a room to myself; she just brought out some bedding and let me sleep in the common room, which was empty since the patrons were already asleep. But I couldn't sit still. I was afraid my father was following me. As soon as I heard the cock crow, I left. I had no way of repaying her, so I just left my flute and scribbled a note of thanks, and then I continued my journey. It took some hours and plenty of asking around, but since the sun was up, there were more honest people out. They were helpful, and before long I found myself at the Yamada Kengyo School of the Koto."

"I can't believe you made that journey on your own. As a seven-year-old."

"Well, didn't you begin your samurai training early? I'm certain that even as a seven-year-old, you would have been able to hold your own as well."

"I guess you're right!" Taichi grinned. "I was the best in my class at Kodaiji with a sword. Not so great at listening. But I'll tell you about it later."

Yamato smiled back. "I look forward to it. But...there isn't really much to tell after all that. Master Kengyo took me in right away, and that's that."

"Hey, no, that can't be it! You didn't have any money, so why'd he let you into the school? I'll bet if I was the one, he'd smack me upside the head and tell me to go home."

"There really isn't much more to tell. I guess I just looked like I went through a lot. And I wanted to devote myself to music. I never asked for any more reason; I was just happy to finally have a place to call home." Yamato wasn't quite ready to tell Taichi about his engagement to Takenouchi Sora. It seemed like an irrelevant and embarrassing piece of information, so he left it out. He wasn't thinking about it, anyhow; he would only realize that the detail was left out much later. Taichi seemed placated by his current answer for the meantime, and Yamato was able to relax. It had been a long time since he had told anyone that story; in truth, he was shocked that he remembered so much of it. Now that someone else knew his tale, he felt that a heavy burden had been lifted off of his shoulders. He felt much lighter, and his smile reflected it.

Taichi felt his face flush when he saw Yamato smile, even though the musician's eyes were closed. There was something different about it that he could not put his finger on, but he couldn't help but smile himself. He scooted closer to Yamato and gently placed a hand over his. "Well, I think it was the best decision you ever made. You've got a gift with that koto of yours. And," he added with a smirk, "If that doesn't work out for you, you could always go back into the acting business! But, y'know, only as a pretty lady. I doubt you'd get much luck as a man-actor."

To both boys' surprise, Yamato took Taichi's hand and squeezed it in his. Their hearts both beat faster and their blood seemed to ignite with an unknown passion, though there was no way they could have known. But they both understood the gesture as a sign of trust and friendship at this time, and the boys shared laughter and let themselves lay back onto the sand again, hands clasped warmly. The sun was no longer high in the sky, and the temperature was slowly but surely dropping. The crystal blue ocean was shimmering, as if beckoning the sun to set into the horizon. The waves ebbed back and forth on the sand, almost touching the boys' toes. A hermit crab tottered past them, looking for its mate. Taichi picked it up with both hands slowly, so as not to alarm it, and set it on his opposite side, where he had seen another crab scatter. The crustacean seemed to thank him as it scurried off in the correct direction. Yamato looked from the crab to the samurai, the soft light of sunset making his tanned skin glow ever so slightly. He hadn't realized that Taichi was handsome. Perhaps it was his patient ear, or the gentleness he displayed despite his warrior background; but whatever it was, Yamato could hear his heart beating loudly from within his chest. Unsure of how his friend would react, Yamato decided to keep silent about his feelings.

"That was nice of you," he said eventually, his own hands feeling suddenly empty without the brunette's. "Those crabs must be happy."

"Well, I figure it must seem like an eternity for them, walking from one end to another. It's only right that I help 'em out, y'know? It's not like it's any trouble for me, scooting them from here to there. That's what we samurai do! We help people! That's what my dad always told me, anyhow. It's just like the crabs, see? Samurai help people when there doesn't seem to be any other way. We show them a path when there's no path to be seen."

_I had never thought of it that way,_Yamato thought. But something within him desperately wanted to change the topic as soon as possible. His mind began racing on a tight chain of thoughts: if the samurai were here to help people, why were commoners still at the bottom? If they were so powerful, why were there now foreigners in their land? Would Japan ever be the same, now that their own Odaiba ports were now open to the rest of the world? Yamato's worries only increased when he turned his blue eyes toward the horizon. He felt that a ship with black sails would appear at any moment, even as the sun had set, threatening Japan with more unwanted change. He shuddered and concealed his reaction by pulling his kimono over his body. "So. Kodaiji. The name is familiar...a temple somewhere in Kyoto, am I correct?" he asked. He couldn't bring himself to even utter a polite 'that's nice' to Taichi's comparison of people to hermit crabs.

"That's the very one," Taichi grinned, following suit and grabbing his kimono from the rock he had set it on. He flicked it sharply to get any sand particles off of it. "I lived in Kyoto when I was a boy. Studied there and everything. Come to think of it, it would have made more sense if I grew up here in Edo, and you in Kyoto! I mean, what with the Old Capitol being the artsy center, or something like that."

The sun continued to set, mindless to the boys' conversation. As the sky grew dark, Yamato learned of Taichi's bright past. His younger sister, Hikari, was one of the lucky girls allowed to have an education based in the temples. She learned of philosophy, art, and religion at Kodaiji Temple, where Taichi's elementary schooling had been. It was clear that Taichi was a boy blessed with many opportunities. The Yagami household sounded loving and caring: everything that Yamato's was not. Their family was whole, able to go to school and learn about brush painting and katana-wielding and whatever else was offered. _A charmed life indeed_, Yamato thought to himself as Taichi happily recalled his childhood. For a moment, he felt deathly pangs of jealousy. But there was nothing that could be done to fix his past. Taichi began to wrap up his personal history with talk of his younger sister as they both stood up and stretched.

"...And so, I told Hikari that I wanted her to be strong. She's book-smart and all that, but she's got to be like...like Itagaki. Do you know who she is? I mean, not a lot of people do, 'cuz she's a woman. Not that I have anything against them. But for some reason, they're left out of the history books! It's dumb. But anyway, this Itagaki lady, she's crazy amazing. She was a samurai woman, from way back in 1199. She had her own army! With three _thousand_ soldiers!" Taichi's eyes were alight with reverence. "I mean, that is pretty impressive. Now that all of us samurai are divided to oversee all these other regions of Japan, we don't really have big armies. Maybe a max of a thousand. And even then, that's not likely..."

"Hmm. I didn't peg you as someone who paid attention in class," Yamato said with a smile. "Nor as someone who didn't care about rank."

Taichi's eyes widened in surprise. "Eh? What's that supposed to mean?"

Shrugging, Yamato began the short climb up the boulders that surrounded their little patch of beach. "Not a thing, Taichi. Not a thing."

"Hey! You're lying! I'm not dense, you know!" Taichi yelped, grinning as he ambled up after the blonde. His taut muscles were visible through his clumsily tied kimono, and Yamato found that he had to resist looking down. This precaution was only partially due to safety. Looking down whilst climbing from any height was a foolish thing to do in general, but Taichi's well-sculpted body was more distraction than Yamato was prepared to contend with. Fingers callused from plucking the rough koto strings all day, the crags were nothing to the musician. He was able to out-climb Taichi with finesse.

"You're fast," Taichi said as he pulled himself up after Yamato. "You sure you don't have some of that samurai blood in you?"

"Mm. You might just be slow."

"You take that back!"

"Catch me, first!" Yamato laughed and bound off onto the dusty road toward the Odaiba proper, Taichi close behind. His heart felt so light when he was with the boy! Closer and closer they got to the city. By this time, the sky had grown darker, and Yamato was beginning to feel winded. Compared to a samurai, he simply wasn't in good shape. When Taichi caught up to him, he threw his arm over his shoulder and shoved his fist into Yamato's hair playfully, mussing it up with much success. "M-My hair! No! No! Not the hair...!"

"Too late, Kiyohime!" said a triumphant Taichi, refusing to let go of the slim boy under his arm. "Looks like you're mine now!"

"That's not how the story went at all, and you know it," Yamato grumbled, trying to get out of Taichi's solid grip. "Lemme go!"

They had gone down quite a ways like this. Taichi's loud banter did not attract attention, which was astounding; however, there were no passersby to be seen, so this was not surprising. The plain outskirts of the city were now in view. The light of fireflies began to flicker on as the darkness of night became more apparent. The sound of waves were gentle now, and carried remnants of the moments the boys had spent earlier at the beach. Taichi's arm was still snaked around Yamato's neck; not quite an embrace, per se, but a headlock. Somehow they were able to stroll down the dusty path without hassle, laughing and joking all the way.

"Am I interrupting something?" asked someone from the shadows.

Yamato nearly jumped, for he was certain that no one else was around. He scanned the vicinity of the woods that surrounded them and the path to the city ahead with little effectiveness for the position he was in. The most he could see was the inner folds of Taichi's indigo kimono, and very little of his immediate breadth of the area. Squinting, he could just make out that the voice came from a short burgundy-haired boy toting a katana in his belt. He had a friendly smile on, and his eyes seemed to shine with a sense of intelligence. His size did nothing to undermine those wise, dark eyes. Taichi threw him a look of familiarity and waved with his free arm. "Koushiro!"

"Last I checked, Taichi, wrestling with the artisans of the Floating World was looked down upon," the short boy said. Yamato blushed, but Taichi didn't seem to catch the double entendre of the smaller samurai's words.

"This one's special! It's 'cause he's mine," Taichi proclaimed, finishing off Yamato's hair with a final playful rub. The blonde hair now stood out, and Yamato now looked as if he had just gotten out of bed after a bout of tossing and turning. Master Kengyo would certainly question his behavior when he returned home.

But Koushiro's voice had become more serious. "You should really get back soon," he said. "Word is out that some of the Loyalists are out for blood. Some of their own ranks have begun to turn toward the West. They want change. And now they're looking for traitors to the shogun. The slightest difference in one's thought process...that could be just enough to set them off..."

Taichi blanched, but these words made no sense to Yamato. Loyalists? Traitors? What on earth was going on? He looked to Taichi, hoping to procure an explanation. But Taichi did not speak. He simply reached for Yamato's hand, held it tight, and pulled him toward the general direction of the Yamada school. "Thanks for the tip, Koushiro," he said quickly as he tugged Yamato along, walking at an urgent pace. "I'll bring him back home. Where will you be for all this?"

"I'll be heading home myself. I don't want to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I just pray that my parents have done nothing to warrant my beheading," Koushiro bowed his head and hurried off in the opposite direction, probably out to warn other travelers on the quiet road. Only now did the area's silence seem surreal. The possibility of danger had replaced the once peaceful road, and even the fireflies had decided to flee.

A confused Yamato was delivered to Master Kengyo's quarters wordlessly. His chestnut eyes were stern and filled with worry. The journey back was succinct and too quiet for Yamato's tastes. Taichi was usually quick to speak, and Yamato eager to listen. The silence, then, was terribly unsettling for the musician. Silence was hardly something a man of music had to deal with, for there was always a tune in playing in their minds whether they liked it or not. But Taichi's visible woes rendered the notes in Yamato's head dead. His heart sank. He wanted to try asking the samurai again, but he knew it would be a defeated endeavor. They stood at Yamato's door for a couple of moments before Taichi took a step back, his hand grasping the grip on his sword tightly. Should the occasion arise, he would be ready to strike anyone down. "Take care of yourself," was all he said to Yamato before he began to walk back to his home, feet light against the ground and soundless.

Taichi's voice had lowered, and Yamato knew how serious his warning had been. He felt himself shiver despite the humid summer air as he watched his friend leave. Worries began to invade his thoughts. More than ten years had passed since the Black Ships arrived in their country, but that was all Yamato knew. He thought of asking Master Kengyo, but he was already asleep. _He wouldn't know more than I would anyway,_ Yamato thought tersely. _We're both musicians who know nothing of the outside world, because the only world we know is Ukiyo. We are the Atlases who hold up our Floating World._

But this did nothing to reassure him. He could only pray that Taichi would come back. Not only was he Yamato's only link to the outside world, but without him there, Yamato couldn't help but feel restless. He realized he felt safest when Taichi was there. Clutching Taichi's bell and the _ema _ in his kimono, he looked out, hoping to catch a glimpse of the samurai as he left, but Taichi was fast. Even the fireflies refused to return to the road that night.

* * *

><p>Notes:<br>1. As Japan began to modernize, many of its citizens sought foreign influence in terms of education and military prowess. The Edo period focused on promoting all things Japanese, whilst the Meiji period found that westernization was of utmost importance.  
>2. Onigiri is a popular snack among the Japanese. It's portable and delicious, and was favored for long travels because it was salted and would not spoil easily.<br>3. Bloodlines were still very important at this time in Japan, but with the rise of the samurai, many peasants threw down their hoes and were allowed to pick up swords instead. It was still strange to stray from a profession that the family already maintained for generations.  
>4. Taichi is referring to <em>Tokaido Yotsuya Kaidan<em>, or _The Ghost Story of Yotsuya,_ one of the most well-known Japanese ghost stories written in 1825 by Nanboku IV. The story is supposedly made up of two sensationally chilling news stories involving two men who murdered their master, and another where a concubine is nailed to a wooden board and sent down a river.  
>5. The crab imagery is something I wanted to add after reading a short Japanese folktale about a girl who buys a crab to save it from being eaten. What Taichi does isn't exactly the same, but his reasoning that he should help them out because all life is important is from that same vein of the folktale.<br>6. Itagaki is one of the only samurai women that have been documented, though not much more is known about her than what Taichi expressed.  
>7. Shortly after Commodore Perry's ships entered Japan, a schism occurred in the samurai rankings. Some did not want change, and were seen as loyalists to the Bakufu. Those who did want change were seen as rebels. This information was taken from Romulus Hillsborough's "Samurai Tales", an account of Japanese history through the eyes of samurai toward the end of the Edo period.<br>8. Fireflies can signify many things, such as illumination and even attraction (they were often used in ancient Japanese poetry about love). Their lights are considered to be the "altered forms of soldiers who have died in a war", according to Japanese symbolism. Also, see Studio Ghibli's _Grave of the Fireflies_.


	4. Chapter 4: The Road and the River

**Ukiyo ~ Floating World**  
><strong>Chapter 4: The Road and the River<strong>

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Digimon or any of its respective characters and such. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction devoted to the absolute perfection of my OTP.**  
>Author's Notes: <strong>Since I majored in Japanese, I added bits and pieces of Japanese literature and history throughout the work. Footnotes are provided for the readers' convenience. However, Japanese history was not my strength, so if something seems a little off, please don't hesitate to correct me. I'm doing my research as best as I can, and without taking an actual course in Japanese history, there is a definite possibility that something will be amiss. Apologies! Lastly, the names are written in the traditional surname-forename structure.

* * *

><p>The dull buzzing of cicadas made the air feel heavier and more humid than it truly was. Even at this early hour, Odaiba was bustling with merchants and servants rushing past, trying to get their chores done before noon. The sun hadn't even reached its peak, but the people in the crowds were dripping with sweat, their thin clothes sticking to their skin as they moved about. They townsfolk were grateful to live so close to the sea, but the enclosed area was still vulnerable to heat waves without trees to shade them. To stay cool, one had to venture out of the city and into the woods to seek blissful shelter a good ten degrees cooler; unfortunately, no business could be conducted outside of the city. The people of Odaiba had their stations set in their perimeter, with small houses erected hither and thither for dozens of different occupations. The fishermen had it the worst. Even though they were out on the open sea, they had little protection from the overbearing sun. The best jobs to tackle in such heat was one that allowed a person to move about so often that they'd forget about it entirely. In such close quarters, tedious jobs in the home that required focus could drive a person to madness. It was enough to deal with Mother Nature's temperate climate; it would certainly be too much to force the brain to think too hard on minuscule tasks.<p>

While the fishermen were out cursing their luck on the sea, the strange sounds of ill-formed notes could be heard from a small wooden villa toward the edge of the town. Twang, twang, thwack! - the sounds alternated in perfect succession and resembled music more than the plucking of the stringed instrument. Slender fingers would tug at the strings hesitantly, creating something that was not quite resonance, but not quite dissonance. Then a loud smack would occur. It would either be Master Kengyo's large, hardened silk fan cracking at Yamato's wrist, or Yamato's own hand smashing against something nearby. The day at the beach was the only day he had not be strict about his time limit, and it was already affecting his play. Of course, there were more pressing matters on the young musician's mind: Taichi's tight-lipped farewell, and the samurai Koushiro's mysterious warning about a group called the Loyalists. Something was going on outside of his Floating World, and no one had the information he needed to pull himself out of this sudden confusion. Life was no longer only about making music. There were now other things that he had to pay attention to, other things that he needed to be aware of to keep himself safe.

"What's wrong with you today?" Kengyo asked impatiently, folding and unfolding his tessen. The fan looked delicate with its black lacquered handle and ecru silk adorning the breadth, but to be struck with it would leave a mighty bruise upon the skin. "Hanging around that boy has destroyed your perfect pitch. How is it possible for you to already be out of practice after only one day?"

Yamato breathed through his nose and ignored the welts on his forearms. It had been a long time since he had received Kengyo's harsh conditioning techniques, but his light skin had already grown accustom to the pain and did not bruise easily. He knew precisely why his concentration had taken a turn for the worse, but he also knew that Master Kengyo would not be able to explain the inner workings of the outside world. All day and all night long, his master would be tuning all the kotos he owned, making sure they all sang exactly the same tune. With the same finesse, he would proceed to play three different songs to make sure that they all played the same. And then he would tune them all differently to change the octaves. There was no end to Kengyo's practice, and Yamato was lucky to pick it up so quickly as a boy. Yamato was the only pupil who could tune a koto quickly and accurately, according to Yamada Kengyo's tastes. Such a feat often took a student years to master, and yet the blonde boy was able to do it on command as soon as he picked up the instrument. But that mastery was too far from Yamato's mind, and the only person he could ask was Taichi.

He had never actually visited Taichi before. The samurai would always dutifully pick him up at the Yamada school, whether or not a location was decided beforehand. It never occurred to him to see Taichi in his own home. Perhaps it would have been too much for Yamato to bear. Taichi, the golden warrior, the young samurai who had a family to come home to every night, should the need arise. Shaking his head from the thought, Yamato tried to focus on his instrument, but his mind kept wandering to thoughts of the brunette. He needed to see him. His mind would not be at peace until he did. Callused fingers clutched his forearm, startling him back into reality. "I asked you a question," Kengyo said softly. There was a hint of sadness in his voice. "I fear that you may have lost your gift."

"My apologies," Yamato muttered. "I have other things on my mind. I've been unable to clear my head. Perhaps I should take a walk."

Before Kengyo could protest, Yamato had already pushed himself off of the floor and made his way out the door. He heard the sound of his master tuning the koto Yamato had left behind, and sighed. _I will come back to my music as soon as this is over,_ he promised, imagining the smooth cherry wood of his instrument. _There's no way I can play now. I'm frightened, and I'm frightened because I don't know a thing. Ignorance had been bliss once, but it won't do to just sit around when my friend could be in trouble._

The heat did not seem to affect Yamato as much as it did everyone else. He was a beautiful thing, and looked so cool despite the sun's harsh rays upon him. Girls would stop their chores and look up at him from under their sunhats, their gaze lingering for only a second before blushing and getting back to their work. Men avoided his eyes, but generally cleared a pathway for him as he blindly wove through the town. When elderly women caught sight of him, they chuckled to themselves and clucked about how wonderful it was to have such a brilliant young musician in their midst. Though he wasn't aware of it, Yamato had become a celebrity in their small town, and many recognized him from the cherry blossom festival in the spring. He pressed on, unsure of where he was going. He hoped that he would run into Taichi himself while it was still light out.

Luck was not with Yamato that day. Instead, he tried asking the townsfolk where the Yagami household would be. He searched for hours, peering into windows discreetly. He described Taichi to strangers, making big motions with his arms to denote how voluminous his friend's hair was. He had encompassed what he believed was all of Odaiba, and asked anyone who happened to be standing around outside. Some people tried to be helpful. Many people simply stared at him dumbfounded at how he wasn't sweating, and then promptly complained about the heat. And the girls were absolutely no help at all, drilling him with questions about when he next performance would be. He felt that he had exhausted the citizens' knowledge (or lack thereof), and still nothing.

It was curious. Was Taichi so ordinary a samurai that no one could distinguish him from anyone else? No, that couldn't be it; if he was descended from Toyotomi Hideyoshi, Taichi's family must have at least a little prestige. Was he just in the wrong part of town? There wasn't much ground to cover. The sun was now high above his head, and his body finally began to react to the heat. Scowling, he made his way to Shiokaze park, the place where he had performed. He sat under a tree and rubbed his face with his hands, sighing loudly. Being shut away to practice for so long disoriented him, and he wasn't familiar with the layout of his own town. When was the last time he had gone out on his own? Master Kengyo had always been the one to lead the way, and if it wasn't him, it was Taichi. The blonde felt embarrassed. All the homes looked the same to him, and everything still seemed foreign. And to think, he had been born and raised here! How hopeless he felt at that moment!

"Yamato?"

He slid his face from behind his fingers slightly, just enough to expose his eyes. He had to squint, as the sun decided to make things difficult for him, as if punishing the musician for ignoring its rays for so long. Was it Taichi, or was he just imagining things? As his eyes adjusted, he expected to see his friend's messy mop of chocolate brown hair, but was instead met with the red-headed samurai from the other night. Shaking his head from the delusion, he looked up, eyebrows arched apologetically. _I hoped you were someone else,_ he thought. "Oh, ah, hello," he muttered from beneath his hands. "You're...um, you're..."

"Izumi Koushiro. Don't worry about it. Anyway," the short samurai straightened himself up. "I was walking around town and I had heard that you were asking for Taichi's whereabouts."

Yamato threw his hands down, his eyes widening. This boy knew! Eagerly, he sat up and leaned forward, ears ready. But answer he received was not satisfactory, and far from his expectations.

"He's left town."

"Left...town." Yamato repeated the words slowly, tasting them in his mouth, unable to process them. He began to laugh absently. A colorful range of emotions were swirling in his mind. He was worried for Taichi. He was angry at him, sad that he was gone. He was happy that his presence no longer lingered in the city, for that meant that he could return his focus to the koto. He felt hurt that his only friend had left without so much as a goodbye. It hurt even more as he began to read into the action: hadn't he just told Taichi about his childhood, and how he left his father's home without a note, because he didn't care? His heart began to beat faster, blood boiling, but he forced himself to stop dwelling on his paranoia. Taking a deep breath and struggling not to feel so awful, he looked at the red-headed samurai, expecting him to elaborate.

"I advise that you stay indoors. It isn't safe outside of these walls anymore, especially near the capitol. Please. Keep yourself safe," Koushiro said softly, his dark, intelligent eyes showing a hint of understanding. Perhaps this boy knew of betrayal as well.

Yamato stumbled and found solace against the tree. "So...so he's gone. He won't be coming back, will he?"

"It isn't safe for him to. Please understand this."

But Yamato was persistent. Though he felt like the world had somehow turned against him, he knew that he could not just sit around all day and wait for the brown-haired boy who had become his best friend. He would not be able to get information from Taichi as he'd hoped, but Koushiro knew something. After all, he was the one who had warned Taichi in the first place. "It has to do with the Loyalists, doesn't it?" he asked fervently. "Are they after him? Are they after you? What on earth is going on?"

Koushiro bit his lip and furrowed his brow. "You mustn't ask these things. Not out loud. Someone could hear."

"I need to know," Yamato pushed. "I know nothing of the outside world. And now my only friend has left me. Could you please try to understand that? I need to know. He could be dead, for all I know, and I will never get the chance to say my goodbyes. Please, I am begging you. Help me."

Sighing, the shorter boy rubbed his eyebrows together with his fingers, trying to decide what the best course of action would be. Yamato did not underestimate the boy. He could have sworn he had seen the gears turning in the samurai's brain, sizing up the pros and cons of his decision. Koushiro was not one to rush into things blindly, and after a long, awkward pause, he finally spoke again. "My deepest apologies, but I simply cannot comply. You're safer if you stay here. You're better off not knowing."

Feeling deflated but not surprised by the boy's answer, Yamato could only nod. Before the samurai took his leave, however, Yamato decided to ask one more question. He desperately hoped that it was harmless enough. "Are you going to be leaving, too?"

"Yes. But not for the same reasons. I have a delivery to make." Koushiro looked back at the city. He seemed to be looking at a girl with camel-colored hair, voluminous in a tall and elaborate updo. She was slender and pretty, and Yamato could see why he was looking at her with a sense of longing. He followed Koushiro's gaze and realized that the girl was his delivery. Yamato may not have known anything about the outside world, but he knew in an instant that the pink-kimono clad girl was of the Floating World. Perhaps she was a dancer, or a _maiko_; whatever her chosen profession in the Ukiyo, it was clear to Yamato that she was not a girl who did laundry or harvested rice. He turned his eyes on Koushiro again, and saw that the boy was smiling a very faint smile.

Yamato stood up and bowed his head politely, and apologized for taking up so much of Koushiro's time. And as he walked away, he began to devise a plan. If no one would tell him, he would go to someone who would. The only one he had in mind, of course, was Taichi. His mind schemed back and forth as he headed home, and the sun was still high in the sky, and people were beginning to take shelter in their homes from the heat. The cool that he had lost during the noontime had returned as he pondered and pondered, and he had the biggest grin on his face when he had realized his plan.

A few minutes before he reached the Yamada residence, Yamato turned on his heel and dashed back. He stopped and asked a girl who was doing work outside if he could borrow her wide-brimmed hat for a moment, and promised that he would return it as soon as he could. She was too stunned by his beauty, or perhaps it was the deep, silvery voice; but whatever the reason, she quickly plucked the hat off of her head and smiled dumbly, nodding at the musician. Thanking her, he put it on his head and made sure that his face was covered as he backtracked to Shiokaze park.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Koushiro and the maiko girl chatting beneath a tree. Yamato was not immediately in the open, and did his best to make himself hidden within the surrounding vicinity of the park. He nonchalantly stood behind a large tree. The girl was sitting, and the samurai stood by her defensively as they spoke. Koushiro would glance around every so often, probably to make sure that there were no shady characters around to disturb them. _I must look terribly suspicious,_ Yamato thought to himself glumly. The blonde looked around the park, hoping that there were more people around, but the couple were the only ones that could be seen. Cursing to himself, he put his back to the tree and pounded his head, hoping that the tremors he caused would help him come up with a plausible diversion.

The plan, which he came up with in the few moments before getting to his home, was to follow the samurai. For one reason or another, Yamato figured that Koushiro would be headed to wherever Taichi would be. It was a feeling that he harbored, and he decided to act on it, since he had no other options at this point. The people of Odaiba would not tell him something as simple as where his friend had gone; they acted as if the Yagami family didn't even exist. There was something too odd about their silence, and just like that, Yamato had rendered them all untrustworthy. Perhaps they just thought like Koushiro, and they believed it best that the musician stay pure. In other words, they wanted him to keep his head out of such dreaded business. Or at least, Yamato had assumed it was dreaded: he remembered Koushiro hoping that he wouldn't be "beheaded" that night. Yamato had a feeling that "beheaded" was not code for anything other than exactly what it sounded like.

It was in that moment that he wondered why he was going through so much trouble. Perhaps he _could_ just ask one of the townspeople. Someone in Odaiba had to know. What he was doing was absolutely senseless. He sat down on the grass and let his head rest against the tree trunk. But a strange, unknown feeling was tugging at his brain. It was telling him that it was necessary to find Taichi, but it wouldn't tell him why. He had found friendship and solace in the samurai, and they had become friends in the spring. They had witnessed that odd storm together. Taichi gave him the lovely bell charm. Yamato couldn't explain it, but every time he became aware of the bell tucked in his kimono, he felt warm, and his heart would either skip a beat or beat faster than he'd like. He had attributed the feeling to friendship. That had to be it. Taichi was his first true friend, the first boy around his age who did not look down on him for being a musician when he apparently should have been a warrior, and that was why. Consumed in his thoughts, he was ready to give up, but he staggered to his feet when he heard the sound of Koushiro and the girl talking. They were walking back to the town proper, and they were about to pass him. He had to act quickly.

"Miss Tachikawa, we need to leave soon, before - "

"Kou! Please! I told you not to call me that. Mimi is fine. You don't have to be so polite all the time!"

"Yes, right, well, in any case. We need to start now if we can catch the safe rest areas. You know how dangerous the Tokaido is at night. It's just unfortunate that your _geiko_ training has to be continued in Kyoto..."

"You know very well that it's the only place where I can learn to manage the _hanamachi_," said Mimi. "Odaiba is nice, but it's nowhere near as pretty as Gion! You know that. Edo was just practice, and my Big Sister was just visiting, and..."

Yamato stopped listening to their banter and took a deep breath. He decided to follow them, and did so as soundlessly as he could manage. They weaved through the town, and he followed suit, returning the hat to the girl he borrowed it from earlier. She squeaked in delight, but Yamato couldn't be bothered to notice. Koushiro and Mimi walked together, and Yamato couldn't help but grin. Mimi wasn't much taller than Koushiro, but she was taller than him nonetheless. It was an interesting sight to see, and yet somehow it did not seem out of place. A tall, willowy beauty with a short, serious-faced samurai was not unorthodox at all. A seventeen-year-old kotoist looking for his best friend, who happened to be a samurai? That was the stuff of Heian novels written by bored court ladies in the Emperor's palace.

He followed them close to the outskirts of town. The task in itself was not difficult, because the maiko would always stop and comment on things, while Koushiro sighed to himself, knowing they would make much better time if they didn't stop so often. But as he passed by his street, Yamato suddenly remembered Master Kengyo. He bit his lip. Yamato owed Kengyo his life. Should he not at least leave his mentor, his only father figure, a note? Would that break his heart? He stopped suddenly, then, watching Koushiro and Mimi walk off toward the Tokaido road. Yamato couldn't just leave. It would not be that simple. He did not want to alienate the person who took him in, fed him, clothed him, and taught him how to develop his talents. He owed Kengyo too much. And yet the samurai and the maiko were getting further and further away.

A sudden flood of memories hit Yamato like a falling house. The day he arrived at the Yamada school, doubling as the older man's residence, and how Yamato's thoughts on marriage and the changing tides of time seemed to win him over. Kengyo simply nodded and stepped aside, allowing the boy into his home. Yamato had done the cooking and cleaning for the first year or two, and he did not mind. For his eighth birthday, Kengyo gave him his first koto, and the lessons began immediately, though only in between chores. When he turned ten, Yamato no longer had to do housework, though he still excelled at it. The other students had long since left by that time. Yamato had become the best student, though this wasn't solely by default: he was simply fantastic. That is what Kengyo told him. And of course, he remembered his seventeenth birthday, not too long ago. Yamato felt hot tears welling in his eyes, and he struggled to withhold them. And Koushiro and Mimi were almost completely gone from his sight.

He bounded after them after kicking off his geta in hopes that it would quiet his steps. His soft feet were not used to the bare ground, and the tiny pebbles would scratch and tear at the sensitive skin as he ran. But the adrenaline was already pumping; it was now or never, and he had to at least get a general idea of where they were headed. He could not remember for the life of him how to even get to the Tokaido road, much less what to follow, so this was a very important step. He followed them to the entrance of the road and dared only to follow them for about half an hour before he backtracked home.

How long had he been out? The sun was about to set. He crept into the Yamada school, bloodied feet leaving a speckled trail in his midst. Kengyo would be cross with him, but Yamato would bear it for the time being. The master was kneeling in the same place as always, but he was no longer tuning the kotos. Everything was silent and very still. For a moment Yamato was afraid that Kengyo had stopped breathing, for there would always be sound at the Yamada school. The boy felt a chill run up his spine as he observed his teacher, who remained motionless, hands resting on his thighs. Trembling, Yamato crept toward him with an outstretched arm. "Master?" No answer. He tried again, but his soft voice fell on deaf ears. Now frightened, he hesitantly put a hand on Kengyo's shoulder to shake him.

Without warning, Yamada Kengyo's hand shot up and caught Yamato's wrist, holding it firmly. The rest of the thirty-two year old's body was stayed stock still, except for his lips. "Wash your feet," came the eerily calm voice of his teacher. "It will not do to track blood in this place. It may not be a normal temple, but this is where we create music, and it is sacred in that right."

Yamato was unsure of what to say. He let his hand hang limply from Kengyo's grip. His bright blue eyes studied his teacher, but he could not make out what could have possibly been going on in the older musician's mind.

"You are leaving tonight, are you not?" Kengyo finally opened his eyes. Though he was still young by many standards, his dark brown eyes looked tired. He did not look at the boy, but his eyes were clear and serious. Yamato managed to nod.

"Take that package over there. I had a feeling that this day would come," he said, releasing Yamato's wrist and pointing to a corner of the room. Yamato bowed to his master, unsure if he saw, and quietly padded his way toward it, making sure to step gingerly so the blood would not stain the ground. Wrapped in a fine cloth was a lacquer box. Within the box was a set of rice balls, the small wooden flute Yamato had carved long before he had arrived on Kengyo's doorstep, and a new set of geta. Next to the parcel was a neatly folded pile of clean robes made of a tough but comfortable fabric. Blinking, Yamato was in awe. How could Kengyo have possibly known what he was going to do, down to the wooden geta he had abandoned in giving chase to the samurai and the maiko?

As if reading his thoughts, Kengyo replied, "You have been like a son to me, Yamato. I have come to know you well enough to know what your next steps would be. The very essence of your being is something I could hear in every note of your songs, because you have come to live through music, as I have. The only difference between you and I now, as your master, is that my ears are sensitive to what your music tells me. Soon enough, you will be able to do the same. But I see now that you can no longer remain married to music: you need to search out your own answers."

Yamato was at a loss for words. He looked back at Kengyo. Lately he had felt the urge to cry all the time, and now he felt as if he wore his emotions on his sleeve. Swallowing hard, he did not pick up the package. Instead, he ran to Yamada Kengyo and threw his arms around him. "I will return to you. You are the only father I will ever know," he said through choked sobs. "I promise you, I will return. There is no one here who can give me the answers I need."

A single tear rolled down Kengyo's eye, but Yamato's face was buried into his shoulder and did not notice. "Be safe, Yamato. You must be very careful. The roads may be treacherous, but I have no way of knowing how things fare now." He lifted a hand and patted the boy's head sadly. "You are right in leaving to find what you are looking for."

"I'm sorry, Master Kengyo, I'm so sorry," Yamato wailed.

"Do not be." Kengyo gently pushed the boy aside and looked at him as a father regards his son. "You must hurry now, or it will be dark."

Yamato sniffled and wiped his eyes on his kimono sleeve before nodding and changing into the new robes. He could no longer formulate words to say goodbye to his mento. He sat before the package, now noticing that it was attached to a long rod to carry it, and shut his eyes as he smiled. He prepared for his journey is if he were preparing for a koto recital and bowed before the package, and then to Master Kengyo. Before he could get up to leave, the older man raised a hand, motioning for Yamato to stop. It was strange to see the master move again after such a long period of stillness, but he glided through the room to pick up a roll of soft cloth that he used as bandages. Yamato sat down, and Kengyo quietly cleaned and wrapped the boy's bloodied feet before securing on the new geta. Feeling like a child, he fought back urges to stay at the Yamada school and continue living out his days as a musician, forever tuning and re-tuning his koto while staying with Kengyo. But he gathered up all his resolve, took a final deep breath, and walked out of the school. _I will return, father. I will be back soon. I promise,_ he thought to himself, no longer crying and not looking back.

* * *

><p>The Tokaido was much more treacherous and unfamiliar than he remembered. Had it really only been half a year since he set foot on the road? The air was already beginning to cool down with the coming of sunset, but foolish Yamato was not worried. He racked his brain, hoping that he remembered where he had seen where Koushiro and Mimi had been headed. <em>It can't be that difficult. It looks like they were just walking in a straight line. And they didn't have a caravan to follow, so their first stop mustn't be far,<em> he reasoned with himself. _Why, I should be able to make it there before they leave! Not a problem at all!_

But it wasn't long before Yamato was lost. He had not strayed from the straight path he followed, but he expected to reach a checkpoint much earlier. The sky was almost entirely dark now. The trees seemed to become more twisted and disfigured as night descended, and although it was still very warm out, Yamato felt himself shiver. This was nothing like the dark of night when he stole away from his home as a child. Something about the air, perhaps, or the horrible feeling of traveling on his own; whatever the case, he felt uncomfortable. The sounds of a rushing river nearby calmed his mind only for a moment. As he continued forward, he found that he was not alone. There was a strange shadowy figure before him that was very calm and still. The body was much too thin for its own good, but the head was definitely a human head. Must be a traveling monk, Yamato thought as he walked toward the person, no longer afraid. Such hermits were common enough on the road as they made their sojourn for enlightenment. However, as he edged closer and strained his eyes in the darkness, he realized something was amiss. The body was not that of an emaciated traveling pilgrim.

The head was human. This was certain. But it was not attached to a body. What Yamato had mistook for a fasting body was actually a sharpened bamboo pole draped with the robes of the deceased. The boy stepped back in alarm and yelped aloud, covering his mouth. His stomach churned, his eyes rolled to the back of his head, dizzy with shock. Here was evidence enough of the violence Japan endured! Vision blurred, Yamato reeled. Was this a Loyalist, a rebel? Were they all the same threat? Hot tears streamed down the boy's pale face, hearing only the sound of his own whimpering as he backed away, only to stumble and fall upon the cold earth.

A sound in the brush nearby made Yamato's attention jolt back into place. He whipped his head in the direction of the rustling, and instinctively scrambled toward a bush opposite the possible threat. He clamped his cold hands over his mouth, hoping that the thumping of his heart was as silent as his breathing. There he waited for a couple of moments, gripped with terror and paranoia and unable to move. He prayed to the merciful Kwannon for protection. He scanned the area before him, thinking to find the glint of a sword or the brilliant flash of bright red cloth. The boy assumed that warriors would color themselves dangerous, much like the poisonous snakes and insects of the world. He soon realized how wrong he was once a rough arm yanked him from his neck into a tight choke hold.

Struggling to breathe, Yamato's hands shot up and grasped the muscular arm weakly as he attempted to shift his neck away. The few scents he could take in was the putrid smell of a person covered in earth, reeking after days of not bathing. "What's this we 'ave 'ere?" growled a deep, feral voice. "Pretty li'l thing, aren't ye? What's a gem like you doing out here? Don't ye know monsters come out at night?"

Yamato sobbed, his lower lip quivering in trepidation. He was going to die here. The stranger ran a finger down Yamato's cheek. The boy could feel the dried blood as the man touched him, and he had a feeling that this was the man who decorated the river with the gruesome decapitation. _My head will be next,_ Yamato thought hopelessly. The man inhaled Yamato's clean scent deeply. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as the foul man took in his essence. "You must be a Loyalist. I'll bet yer one of the shogun's favorite toys, and I'll bet he takes real good care of you," he said with a sick smile on his face. "I hate it when I ain't got a toy and the rich boys do. I just wanna steal 'em...and then break 'em...and make sure I show the rich boys, to show 'em how much I hate their guts." The hand slipped between his robes and onto Yamato's bare chest. A grunt of interest signaled that the cruel stranger had come across Taichi's bell charm. Yamato's eyes opened wide, half in fear, and half in interest in protecting his precious treasure.

He managed to break from the man's grip and turn to him, spitting in his face. "Don't touch that!" he yelled like a madman, pulling his kimono together tightly with his fist. "Get away from me, you spineless - "

The man only laughed at Yamato's foolish action and pulled his katana from its hilt. Yamato glued himself to the ground, determined to meet the fearsome man's cowardice with honor. But what did the musician know of honor? The beast of a man returned the sword to his belt and delivered a heavy blow to Yamato's abdomen with the wooden scabbard. The boy felt the wind stolen from his stomach, pushed onto his back. Disoriented, all Yamato could do now was clutch the bell in his robes and hope that Kwannon heard his prayers.

Yamato shut his eyes as he heard the sword slip from its scabbard once more. This was the end for him. "I didn't want to kill ye right away, 'specially since you're such a doll. Prettier than a girl, ye are. Shame you pissed me off."

The musician mustered all his strength to shout out the only name that would have mattered now. "Taichi...!"

The sound of flesh being forcibly separated the body is something both inexplicable and incredible. It is similar to tearing an aged scroll in half: satisfying and yet debilitating. The crisp intonation of ripping something that was once whole is an echo of the power an individual holds. For a child, it could be as simple as a piece of paper. For a warrior, it is sensible to assume the enemy is torn apart. And empires delight in nothing more than rupturing virgin land and incorporating it into their own. Everything, in the end, can be torn apart. There is nothing that can stop it.

But Yamato was still whole, his body completely in tact. What had he heard? Tentatively, he opened his eyes. _I must be dead,_ Yamato thought when he reclaimed his vision. _There is no other way. I heard the slice, the cracking of bones. I am dead, I am a ghost, and this man holds my head in his hands._

He was certain that he had expired, because the person he laid eyes upon was not his assailant, but the sweet face of the brown-haired samurai. His dark eyes looked down at him, full of concern, and Yamato felt happy for a moment. He wanted to close his eyes and die peacefully. Dying in Taichi's arms was good enough for him.

"Yamato. What are you doing here?"

_That is definitely Taichi's voice._

"Hey! Answer me! Are you hurt?"

_This does not feel real. He is worried. About me._

"Yamato. Yama, please. He's gone. I've taken care of him. Now talk to me." Yamato felt Taichi stroking his face gently with his thumb. The samurai's hands were warm and strong. He felt his face redden as Taichi tilted his chin up to make sure he was okay.

"Wh-What happened?" Yamato managed, throat dry after the ordeal. He tried to glance at the spot where the horrible man stood, but Taichi's grip was firm and did not let his head stray.

"Don't look that way. I'll ask you again: are you hurt?"

"I...I think I'm okay. I just...I thought he...I thought I was dead. That he sliced me open, just like that poor man on the river."

Taichi cursed under his breath. He then looked back at Yamato and eased him into a sitting position. "Can you stand?" Yamato shook his head. "Okay, we'll sit for a bit. Stay still."

Yamato felt himself hoisted into the arms of his friend, who carried him to what he assumed was a safer location. Setting him down gingerly, Taichi gazed into Yamato's eyes, studying him as if to make sure he was truly unharmed. Satisfied after a moment more, the boy samurai plopped himself down next to Yamato. He buried his face in his hands and rubbed at his eyes, heaving a sigh. "Why are you here?" he finally demanded. "You should be home. Safe and sound. Not out at night, and definitely not out on the Tokaido."

Taking a deep breath, Yamato began to explain himself. How he decided to search for Taichi after he had left without saying goodbye. How Koushiro's strange warnings unsettled him, and how Kengyo allowed him to leave the Yamada school to find answers. Taichi did not move and made no sounds; he just listened. Yamato began to feel uncomfortable, wondering if his words were falling on deaf ears, and if Taichi was simply waiting for him to finish so he could take him back to Odaiba. The samurai would flinch ever so slightly at the mention of "Loyalists" and "Rebels". Taichi finally replied after taking in Yamato's account.

"You're a fool, Yama. You should have stayed home," he rubbed his temples. "Yama, you're so stupid. Why did you do that, huh? You're so stupid, Yama. Why did you do that? Why?"

Bristling, Yamato offered a defiant look. "Because no one would tell me a damn thing," he argued, sitting up on his own. "And you just left. You left, just like that, without saying a word."

"It's only been a day, Yamato!"

"I know! I know, it's stupid, _I'm_ stupid! I don't understand a thing! But after all that talk about the Loyalists, and running into Koushiro - I am glad that I left! People have died, and I'm sure plenty more are dying! And for what cause? There is no way I would have known if I stayed in Odaiba." He tugged at his hair frustratedly. "I've only recently become aware that there is no one who will give me knowledge. Kengyo doesn't know. And I asked everyone in town where you were, but they all claimed that they didn't seem to know that you existed. And although you and Koushiro like to pretend you're tight-lipped about this Loyalist-Rebel nonsense, you sure didn't care about letting it slip a couple of nights ago."

"It was for your own good. For your safety. You need to get back home."

"Not until you give me some answers."

"I will carry you all the way back if I have to."

"Why are you hiding all this from me? You want to keep me safe, and you're not even telling me what I should be afraid of! These...Loyalists, or Rebels, or whatever they are, they're only human, aren't they? What's to stop them from attacking Odaiba, from burning down a music school, if they wouldn't even hesitate to behead someone?" Yamato felt himself breathing hard, his head reeling from the too-recent memory of the remains of the unfortunate man in the river. He noticed Taichi's eyebrow twitch, and he knew that the samurai could not think of an argument for the moment.

"Fine. I'll answer a question for you. Just promise me that you'll head right back to Odaiba as soon as the sun rises."

Yamato nodded, but made sure not to speak so Taichi would at least not have the security of his word. "I know there's no way all of Odaiba doesn't know who you are. Or your family. When we went out on the town, you'd say hello to anyone and everyone, and they knew you."

Taichi smoothed his fluffy hair and turned his head downward. "You're right. My family was pretty rooted in Odaiba. But when Koushiro came to us that night, that was basically a signal for us to leave." He stood up and leaned against a tree, stretching his legs. "Remember how I told you about Kodaiji?"

Yamato nodded. "The temple where you studied."

"That's right. Anyway, I don't think I told you - but that was built for the Toyotomi clan. And long story short, my family is descended from that line," Taichi explained. "Do you know anything about Oda, Toyotomi, or Tokugawa?"

"All I know is that our current period is ruled by the Tokugawa shogunate. Though I admit, I'm not too sure of what that means."

"Right. Well, I'll try to make this short. The bakufu, shogunate, whatever you want to call it, means that we have a shogun in power rather than the emperor. We've got firepower here instead of a person who is ordained by heaven to keep Japan together. You remember how the Black Ships came in, and Tokugawa was forced to sign the Treaty of Kanagawa?"

"I apologize, but I don't. Please just assume that I know nothing, because...well, it isn't very far from the truth," Yamato said sheepishly.

"Sorry. Treaty of Kanagawa is what forced Japan to open its ports to the world instead of staying isolated. Anyway, the Loyalists are people who want to restore power to the emperor, because they're pissed that the shogun allowed such a thing to happen. They don't want change. Rebels, though, they welcome it. They think we can't beat the world if we don't learn all this foreign stuff." Taichi scowled.

Unsure of what side his friend was on, Yamato decided to ask. "Okay, well, let me backtrack to the Toyotomi thing. He was the ruler before Tokugawa, another shogun, basically."

"It sounds like...you'd be a Loyalist."

"That's what the Rebels think."

"Then you're a Rebel? You want change?"

"That's what the Loyalists think."

"So...you're essentially in danger no matter what you think, is that right?" Yamato asked slowly.

"That's the long and short of it, yeah." Taichi knelt down next to Yamato again. The moon was dark that night, but he could still make out the brilliant azure of Yamato's eyes. Distracted, he averted his eyes and pretended to look at the river. "So. You got your answer. I will take you back to Odaiba tomorrow."

The dizziness that Yamato had experienced from his earlier trauma subsided enough for him to cast a glare at Taichi. He inhaled deeply. He expected to smell the magnolia blossoms he noted earlier, but a metallic, dull scent hit his senses instead. Wearily, he looked over to the spot where Taichi did not want him to look. Taichi had slain the man who had assaulted Yamato. The blood was still fresh. It was strange that he felt desensitized to the goriness of the situation, considering the mutilated head was the first time he had been face-to-face with death. Instead of making his stomach churn, the scene made him understand the danger that Taichi was in. _I cannot possibly leave him! Taichi is my only friend. What kind of person would I be if I just had him escort me back home, as if my life had a curfew? No, no; I will not leave Taichi's side,_ Yamato decided. _He is my only connection to the "real world", and I don't want to be away from him again._

Taichi sensed that Yamato would retaliate. "Don't be difficult, Yama. Please. It's for your own good."

"We may have been friends for a good amount of time, Taichi, but you do not decide what is 'for my own good'. I refuse to be left in the dark for the rest of my life, and I refuse to let you continue on your own, knowing what might happen to you." Yamato faced his friend and stared him down as he pointed to the slaughtered, anonymous assailant. "Now that I have seen first-hand what can happen on the Tokaido, of all places! Hundreds of thousands of feet walk through this great road every day, and yet I can't say if they're aware of this violence at all! What if you die, Taichi, and what if I never hear about it?"

"Yamato...Yama, please..."

The musician balled his hands into fists, feeling a sudden fury. He was angry at Taichi for not understanding his feelings; he was angry at the man who attacked him when he was guilty of no crime; he was angry at the man whose head now rested on a bamboo pole in the middle of the river; and he was angry at the violence, the absurdity of the whole situation. He would not back down. He was already this far, and he had gotten a few answers out of Taichi, but Yamato knew that he would not be satisfied by this alone. It was time to grow up and to learn about the world himself.

The samurai scrutinized the musician with a warrior's eyes and knew that Yamato would remain stubborn. He sighed and shook his head, clearly defeated, and motioned Yamato to follow him as he continued along the Tokaido. Relieved and feeling a bit smug from having won the debate, Yamato hurried along after Taichi, hoping that a more positive light would help him forget the grotesque images of death he had witnessed that night.

The river rushed along quietly, blissfully ignorant about the world around it. A strong current came upon the river without warning. The slim bamboo stick that hoisted the glorified head was tossed back and forth, fighting to keep its place in the rich river soil. Only moments later did the surreal decoration yield to the power of the current. The unknown man's head fell into the water with a splash, floating down for a few gratifying minutes before sinking to the depths of the river. Traveling in the strangely familiar calm of dark with Taichi, Yamato had to wonder where the poor man's body was hidden before putting the thought out of his mind.

* * *

><p><strong>Notes:<strong>

1. Shiokaze park can be found in Odaiba. I doubt this park was actually erected during this time period, because Odaiba was mainly used as a defense base. However, if you visit it today, you'd be able to see the giant 60' tall Gundam statue!  
>2. A <em>maiko<em> is a "geisha-in-training". They tend to be 15-20 years old, and the word itself means "dancing girl". _Maiko_ and _geisha_ are not prostitutes. I cannot stress this enough. _Geisha_, or _geiko_, literally means "a person of the arts". They sing, they dance, and they entertain (and NOT in the sexual way that westerners seem so fond of thinking; geisha happened to live quite close to courtesans, and so it would have been easy to refuse to make the distinction). More information can be found on .  
>3. A <em>geiko<em> is basically the same as a _geisha_, but it's a regional term associated with geisha in Kyoto.  
>4. The <em>hanamachi<em> that Mimi talks about literally means "flower town", and it refers to the geisha districts in Kyoto. A maiko has to navigate through them "to create the necessary social networks needed to survive as a geisha", according to Wikipedia.  
>5. The bored Heian (794-1185) court ladies I refer to are Murasaki Shikibu (who wrote the Tale of Genji) and Sei Shonagon (who wrote the Pillow Book). Genji's main character is a man who is beautiful to both men and women, and The Pillow Book is essentially the Heian equivalent to today's trash magazines like Star, US, People, etc. (but I assure it's exponentially better than those magazines).<br>6. Yamato's first stop along the Tokaido is Shinagawa-juku, about a two hour walk from Edo and a little further from Odaiba. There are fifty-three stations of the Tokaido road which travelers follow, starting with Edo and ending in Kyoto.  
>7. Kwannon is known as the Goddess of Mercy in Buddhism.<br>8. Did you catch my Titanic reference? I bet you did. I hope you did.  
>9. Taichi provides pretty much everything I would have put into the notes about the Edo period, including information about the shogunate and the Treaty of Kanagawa. However, I'm a little confused about the LoyalistRebel side - I'm pretty sure I have my facts straight, but I only read Romulus Hillborough's "Samurai Tales" and a article about the shinsengumi. The working term for the Loyalists is a Japanese phrase called "sonnou joui", which roughly translates to "revere the emperor, expel the barbarians". In this case, "barbarians" refers to all the non-Japanese folk who were allowed into Japan after the Treaty of Kanagawa was signed.

Ah, yes. Finally, a crying Yama! If that isn't in-character, I don't know what is. Hope you enjoy the chapter! I know this one was pretty long. If there's any questions, feel free to PM me, especially if it's about my history references. Cheers!


	5. Chapter 5: The Disappearing Shrine

**Ukiyo ~ Floating World  
>Chapter 5: The Disappearing Shrine<strong>

****Disclaimer:**** I do not own Digimon or any of its respective characters and such. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction devoted to the absolute perfection of my OTP.  
><strong>Author's NotesThanks**: I apologize in advance because I am going CRAZY with the double entendres and things that don't sound right out of context. This is just how I get my jollies. I also apologize that this chapter took so long to churn out. I had the ideas down, but the story was taking forever to make sense in my you've been keeping up, thanks! You know by now that a lot of my settings take place in Edo Japan. Be aware that this chapter is pretty ridiculous and will probably be rewritten - time goes a little wibbly-wobbly. As usual, if there are any questions, don't hesitate to let me know.

* * *

><p>It was broad daylight, and another hot summer day. Taichi and Yamato had been traveling for almost three days, deciding only to rest when it was absolutely necessary. Traveling along the Tokaido is not as daunting a task with company as opposed to going at it individually. Without a good sense of direction, a boy like Yamato could end up wandering forever, or at least dead before reaching the first station. Singular travelers that did not look like ascetics on a pilgrimage were seen as suspicious and were prone to getting cut down, especially when traveling at night. Taichi bore a crest on the back of his kimono that associated him with his samurai family. During the day, the two boys were safe because of this crest: they simply looked like a samurai and his vassal going about on official business. Once night fell, however, the highly visible symbol made them susceptible to surprise attackers who assumed they were either Loyalists or Rebels. Taichi's apparent neutrality was of no help, but after the first full night of travel and another assault where he was the only capable defender, the samurai knew at once that he'd be exhausted by the time they reached Kyoto. He decided to teach Yamato how to protect himself if they were going to travel together.<p>

The pair were close to Odawara, the first castle town they would see since leaving the vicinity of Edo. Fraught with worry, Taichi had a feeling that the amount of terrorists on the road would only increase as they neared another castle. With many different samurai hanging about every which way, he believed that he alone would not be able to protect both Yamato and himself if they were ambushed. Many of the assailants were samurai themselves, and the disparity between those loyal to Japanese tradition and those willing to accept modernization was too great. To wield power in this day and age meant holding the better weapon. The traditional katana may have been emperor in Japan, but gunpowder was king in the Western world. But they were still in Japan, and it didn't matter whether one possessed a gun or not if they were already sliced in two. So it goes.

Taichi did not want to see Yamato hurt. The slender boy looked so fragile with his pale skin and lithe figure, and the samurai could not help but feel that it was his sworn duty to protect such a beautiful creature. He was still convinced that Yamato embodied art in its entirety. For a long while, the boys had nothing to say to each other. Yamato felt guilty about burdening Taichi, but he followed with an undeterred sense of pride. Although he was annoyed that Yamato wouldn't return to Odaiba, he found that being with him in this short time was rather enjoyable. The other day, after another scuffle with more masked fighters, the samurai was hit with a wave of fatigue and injury and had to sit down after his victory. Yamato pulled the parcel from over his shoulder and unwrapped a shiny lacquer box and retrieved a salve from a compartment of the box. "Master Kengyo packed this for me before I left," he said to his partner. "It seems that he was certain I would be leaving."

"I'm glad for it. Agh! That stings, please, be careful," Taichi muttered as the salve touched his skin. "Thanks for taking care of that."

"I should be thanking you for protecting us both. I know it must be difficult."

Taichi glanced at the contents of the box and noticed something out of place. There was a folding knife cleverly hidden within one of the sides of the box, which was slightly thicker than the rest of it. He wondered if Yamato had noticed it. Everything else - food, a small container of liquid, salves, cloth for bandages - was in plain sight, and the items filled out the box well. He turned his dark eyes onto the boy before him and watched his movements as he nursed his mere flesh wound. He casually asked if the visible products were all the boy had, and the boy curled his lips into a disarming smile. Taichi felt himself blush and forced himself to look away. "Yes. I think Master Kengyo was very thorough in packing. I suppose he knew I was in a hurry, because, well, I sort out ran out of there really quickly, since I had to catch up with Koushiro..."

"Koushiro? You were gonna follow him? If that's the case, then how did you..."

The boy's cheeks reddened. "Er...well, you see, I get lost very easily, and they were very fast...I didn't actually get to tail them, exactly. I was going to go home, but if I did that, I wouldn't have seen where they were going...I just sort of followed enough to see just about where they were going, and then I assumed that they were just going down a straight path."

"They?"

"Oh, right. He was with a girl, a _maiko_. I think he was escorting her to Kyoto."

"Koushiro and Mimi, huh? Never would've thought it possible," Taichi mused with a grin. "Anyway, I hope you learned your lesson. If you're going to follow someone, at least take the time to _actually_ follow them. It's pretty dumb if you just squint your eyes and think, 'Oh, I hope they're just gonna stay down this road! Must be it! No other way!' Because that's where you run into trouble, and that's when you need a guy like me to save your hide."

"Tch! I was looking for you, all right? Give me a break. I don't get out much."

"That's an understatement." Yamato had just finished attending to Taichi's cut, and the samurai sat up and laced his fingers together around his legs. He thought of the knife in Yamato's box. "Do you know how to defend yourself at all?"

"Pardon?"

"You know. Defend yourself. Kind of what I've been doing on my own so far."

"Oh...ah...no, sorry. I didn't pay too much attention, and I mean, ten years ago was the last time I held anything remotely pointy enough to hurt someone," Yamato said, tight-lipped. "I don't really think I can fight."

Taichi reached into Yamato's box and pulled the knife out of the well-crafted compartment. It was an extremely slim blade, and could easily be compared to an ice pick. Yamato was stunned. Clearly, he had not known that Kengyo also equipped him with a weapon. Taichi felt the thin blade in his hands. The cold metal was surprisingly light and sturdy, and there was a slight bend at the very tip. _So it _is_ an ice pick_, Taichi thought with a smile. _This is ingenious. Not heavy at all, so Yama here wouldn't detect it right away - nor would any assailants. But I wonder how Yamato was supposed to know this was even here?_ He smirked smugly, thinking perhaps that Kengyo knew that Yamato would run into him. He continued scrutinizing the blade, pulling out his own and tapping it broadside against the compact weapon. The sound that emitted was clear and sweet: a sign of quality steel. The handle was made of a lightweight zelkova wood and tightly wound with the indigo-dyed skin of a ray, forming elegant diamond patterns. The most fascinating aspect of the blade, which ran from the Taichi's elbow to the tip of his middle finger, was collapsible. The samurai had never seen anything like it: the knife folded neatly, and whatever was keeping it in place did its job fantastically as Taichi tested it out on a nearby tree. No matter how hard he dug it in, the blade would not give unless a certain button was pressed.

The musician was still stupefied by its existence. With a simpering smile, Taichi handed the blade to his friend. He noted that Yamato's fingers were roughly callused due to years of playing a stringed instrument, but the rest of his hands were soft and delicate, as he had expected. "Caught you by surprise, did it?" he asked the blonde. "Looks like Master Kengyo expected you to fight after all."

"I...I don't really know what to say. I don't know how to do anything with this," Yamato said in a barely audible voice as he cradled the weapon in his hands. "Why would he give this to me?"

"You don't know how to use it, right? I can help you with that, of course," said the brunette, ruffling Yamato's perfectly styled hair. "We can both defend ourselves now. Though I admit, I don't think that little thing is enough..."

Untying a strong cord from round his belt, Taichi loosened a second blade from his side. Yamato gulped and wondered why a man would ever have to carry more than one sword around his waist. The blade was sheathed in a black scabbard, and was much shorter than the katana Taichi used to fell their pursuers. The samurai explained that it was a _wakizashi_, a smaller sword. The fact that he carried both a katana and a wakizashi was a symbol of his samurai status, and the smaller version was used as either a backup or close combat. "It should be light enough for you to wield. See? It's only a little longer than your ice pick there."

"I-I have to hold more than one?" Yamato stammered. "One is certainly enough, and this is just - it's too big, and..."

"It's nothing to be afraid of. It's mine, so I know it well. Here. Just hold onto the hilt." Taichi handed the wakizashi to Yamato, who clutched it securely, making sure not to damage it. "Not so bad, right? How do you feel about it?"

Yamato breathed a sigh and released the tension on his grip. He gazed over Taichi's blade, unsure of what to look for. It certainly felt easy enough to wield, but he was not about to start hitting things haphazardly. He looked at Taichi and then back at the sword as he knelt down. It had been a long time since he held a blade, and he had always been reluctant to have anything to do with them. Watching Taichi fight was one thing, but actually having one in his hands reminded him too much of the brutal training sessions he had had with his father. He clutched his head in his right hand, trying to block out the memories. "I don't think I can do this."

The musician felt Taichi rest a hand on his shoulder as he set the blade before him. With the strong hands becoming of a samurai, he massaged Yamato's back firmly. He sighed softly, feeling the stiffness of his back slowly fade away. "I know what this means to you, Yama. I know you're scared. Being a warrior isn't in you," Taichi said with a gentle fervor as his hands released the knots that had formed in the stressed musician's back. "But if we're in this together, I need help. I know when to admit that much. And although you don't like it, you have the blood of a samurai. I know I can count on you."

They were quiet for a moment, savouring the shade from the willow tree they sat beneath. The waters of the Sakawa river flowed without a sound. A slight breeze tickled their skin as the boys relaxed, Taichi's hands still working on Yamato's body. Yamato closed his eyes and breathed lightly, leaning back into Taichi's fingers. His blonde hair caught the few rays of sunlight that peeked through the leaves of the trees, and his loveliness was overwhelming when he looked so peaceful. The samurai smiled down at him as he finished up. "Feel a little better?"

Suddenly warm, Yamato quickly maneuvered himself away from the boy, cheeks flushed. "Y-Yes. Better. Thank you. That was very kind of you," he mumbled at his friend, unsure of how to explain the butterflies fluttering about in his stomach. "Is...is that some sort of...samurai...relaxation technique, or something?"

"In a way, I guess," Taichi said, scratching his cheek, lips curled in a crooked grin. "Whenever I couldn't focus, my mother would help me with my back, or my father would help me loosen my shoulders. Helps with concentration and swinging a sword, y'know? It's healthy. Now will you help me or not?"

"I...I suppose. But I won't be any good at it."

"I'll train you. You'll be fine. I taught my sister how to use a naginata, so..."

"I'm not sure if that's supposed to be reassuring or if you're trying to insult me or what."

"Just follow my lead."

For the greater portion of the remaining sunlight they had, Taichi taught Yamato the basics of knife-wielding. The samurai discovered that Yamato was ambidextrous, which was a tremendous help. The Ishida blood that flowed through Yamato's veins ran true. Within only a few hours, the musician could twirl the blades through his fingers without cutting himself. It was truly an impressive sight; the boy handled them as if he were dancing. Taichi couldn't help but smile. _I wonder if this is how Toyotomi Hideyoshi felt when he was training Ishida Mitsunari,_ he thought to himself, feeling a sense of pride well up from within. _Wouldn't be amazing if we had a relationship like theirs! Ishida Mitsunari, Hideyoshi's faithful retainer...ah, to be a samurai!_

Eventually, they moved on to stationary targets. Yamato had problems driving the blade into the soft bark of the trees around them. "It just doesn't feel right," he had complained. "The tree has done nothing wrong to me."

Thinking on his feet, Taichi looked at Yamato with a deft glance rife with mischief. He walked up to the blond, smile never faltering, and shoved him to the ground. His clear blue eyes looked up at him in shock. "What on earth are you doing?" he gasped under Taichi's weight. The samurai did not budge. Instead, he pulled his hand back into a fist, gearing up to punch the boy in the face. Yamato yelped and tried to avert his head, but the strike connected, and there was a fire in his glare. _Now we're getting somewhere_, thought the samurai as he continued roughhousing the beautiful boy beneath him. _Show me more. You're capable of more._

Yamato loosed his arm from Taichi's massive grip and swung at the samurai, who easily dodged it. "Knives, Yama!" growled Taichi. "I know you want to hit me, so do it! I'm armed! I've got armor equipped! You can't possibly hurt me, not someone like _you_!"

The musician yelled, his eyes widening in anger. His usually peaceful demeanor transformed into one of rage as he fought back. He felt his blood boiling, and the adrenaline pumped through his veins as he wrestled Taichi onto his back. A surge of power clicked in his brain, and he felt his heart race as he reached for his knife. Taichi, whose eyes were trained to read his opponent's moves, immediately turned the tables once more. "Good," he said in a husky voice, not showing signs of weariness at all. This was nothing to him. "But not good enough."

"God _damn_ it, Taichi!"

The brunette seemed to be having too much fun with the sport. He leaped off of Yamato and assumed a fighting stance, a cocky grin plastered across his face. His tough armor was pinned tightly to his body, and with a crude hand motion, he gestured for the delicate boy to come at him. With a savage howl, Yamato clenched his fists around the hilts of the two short blades and started toward the trained warrior. He attacked randomly, hitting hither and tither, and Taichi was surprised to find himself becoming gradually exhausted as he tried to figure out a pattern in Yamato's attacks. "You're not hitting me anywhere _near_ hard enough, Yama. It's pathetic," Taichi grunted, refusing to express his frustration.

"Just - sit - still! You'll feel this in the morning, you know that - " Yamato growled right back at him, swinging maniacally.

"I _want_ to feel it in the morning! Harder! Harder!"

Yamato's hot streak would not last for long. The wakizashi hit Taichi's armor and bounced off of it, causing it to ricochet away. Instinctively, the boy reached for the blade, but grabbed the wrong end. He gasped as his once-familiar hand began to blossom with blood. "Yama!" Taichi exclaimed, ambling forward. He took hold of Yamato's arm and took a quick look at it before reaching for the lacquer box that had been set aside. He bandaged the wound swiftly, making a tourniquet of just the right amount of pressure to pause the bleeding. Panic set in the back of the samurai's mind as he wrapped the soft cloth around the musician's hand. It was a terribly unpleasant thing to see a beautiful boy like Yamato bleed so profusely. Perhaps he was wrong in trying to set the warrior within him free.

"My hand," Yamato choked as he stared at the bandages in disbelief. "My hand."

"You'll be fine, it'll be all right, I'm so sorry," Taichi mumbled, fumbling the rest of the bandages back into the case. "Just give it time. It will heal."

"Koto. How will I play the koto now?" Yamato moaned.

"It's not that deep," the samurai said helplessly. He knew it wasn't; it was an ordinary cut, extremely shallow, but his heart was beating so fast with guilt. He was no doctor. What if he was wrong? What if Yamato's hand was disfigured now? What if certain connections in the hand were now severed, and what if that meant he could never play the koto the same way he used to? He may as well have set the original scroll containing _The Tale of Genji_ on fire. "It'll heal. We'll stop now. I'm sorry."

"I-It's fine. I can manage with this hand, too," said the musician. "I'm useless to you if I don't practice, and night will fall soon. We need to be ready."

Against Taichi's protests Yamato continued to fight. Taichi felt his concentration drain every time he rested his eyes on Yamato's damaged right hand. Surely the boy was angry with him. Surely this was why he wanted to continue the drills with only a single blade against Taichi's armor. But he felt the guilt fade when he saw just how focused Yamato's eyes were; there again was the quiet grace the musician carried with him when he created music. Each hit became more and more accurate and more powerful, and Taichi had to smile despite what had happened to his friend's hand. Yamato's bright eyes, full of determination, and his purely genuine smile made his guilt melt away.

"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked gently. "We can stop now. It's been almost four hours..."

"I'm fine," Yamato said, offering a smile in return. "It's not your fault. I panicked for a moment...I suppose it was too strange. I foolishly thought that if it was my blade, it would not harm me. Clearly, a weapon does not have a mind of its own, and it doesn't care who its master is." With that, he continued to practice.

Training continued like this until the sun began to set. Tired and damp with sweat, the boys leaned against two different trees, panting heavily in attempts to catch their breath. Taichi untied his now-scuffed armor and undid the top part of his kimono, feeling sweet relief as a slight breeze blew against his hot skin. He prayed that the night would be cooler than the brutal heat of the day. Both the samurai and the musician did not seem to notice their bodies deteriorating as they pushed their bodies to their limits amid the boiling temperature. Now that they were resting, the anguished feeling of fatigue hit them like a large sack of uncooked rice. Taichi worried about how vulnerable they were at this point, but tried to relax the paranoia out of his mind. _We're hidden well enough in these woods_, he reasoned. _We'll be fine._

Though both boys longed for slumber, they agreed to take turns keeping watch. Ambush at this hour was too real of a possibility. The peaceful sound of running water nearby made Yamato drowsy, and Taichi slapped the musician's back with a smile, reassuring that he would keep first watch. Rather unceremoniously, the blonde doubled over and fell asleep straight away. The samurai chuckled to himself. _It's amazing how he can sleep so quickly and still look so cool._ Steadying himself against his tree, Taichi inhaled the scent of the woods around him. He quieted his breath and listened to his surroundings. It was too still. He inched himself closer to Yamato defensively. It wasn't like him to be paranoid, but there was something about the musician's presence that seemed to attract the wrong crowd. All he knew was that he would not let any harm come to the boy. Blonde hair still arranged perfectly, Yamato did not stir as he slept, and his breathing was quiet and even.

A rustle. Taichi perked his ears up and tried to flatten his hair as he strained to listen closer. He cursed to himself. He still felt exhausted from training. Body still leaden, he held his breath. More rustling. It was coming from a bush, slightly further to the north, perhaps hundred or so paces from where the boys sat. He tried to force the heaviness from his eyelids, but the task was becoming arduous. This was not the time to succumb to sleep, but Taichi's already-still body began to droop. _Sleep_, said a voice in his head. He wanted to distract himself, shake himself from the spell, but it was no use. He thought himself falling in slow motion, eyes going every which way as he dropped like a stone. To his right, he saw that he was going to fall with his head facing Yamato's hand, which was holding onto the ice pick gently. There was a faint glow from the ema Yamato strapped onto the hilt; his other hand gripped Taichi's wakizashi, which had the bell charm wrapped around it. It also emitted a glow, though this one was reddish rather than the soft yellow of the ema. Taichi hit the ground.

A flash of bright red. Was it a beak? A gaudy, crimson scabbard decoration? Whatever it was, Taichi was sure that they had been found. Within moments they would be dead. There was no question about it. _I need to protect you_, Taichi thought wildly as his body began to shut down. _Why can't I do something that simple?_

All of a sudden, Taichi was floating. He wasn't above water, but lodged in its center; he wasn't sure if he was drowning in an ocean or if it was as tiny as a puddle, but he was aware that he could breathe.

* * *

><p>It was strange for Taichi to recall that day. Although the incident happened only three days ago, the last image he had before falling asleep kept coming back to him at odd hours. After passing out, he and Yamato had awoken in a small inn at Odawara. Neither of them had any recollection of how or when they had gotten there. Once again he was lost in thought, looking dazed, wondering how the memories became a part of his brain.<p>

"Taichi."

The samurai blinked, startled. He looked up and met with Yamato's blue eyes. The boy looked concerned as he put his bandaged hand on Taichi's shoulder. He noted that they were clean bandages; someone must have changed the bloodied ones, but who? He could remember all the details before arriving in Odawara, but not what had happened just minutes ago. How was that possible? "Are you okay? You're spacing out again."

"Yama. Yama, I really don't know what happened. How we got here."

Yamato was silent for a moment before smiling at him. "Neither do I. But this nice boy is taking care of us, and we should be grateful."

"What boy?"

"You...you really don't remember? I mean, you woke up this morning...did something happen to your memory?"

"Well, do you remember what happened to us before we got here?"

Yamato shook his head. "I was asleep before you were."

Sighing, Taichi pushed himself off the futon, scratching his head through his thick hair. He couldn't piece anything together. And there was a boy who was taking care of the both of them? He looked down at his clothes. _Did this guy even...change our clothes?_ he thought, suddenly mortified. As expected, his clothes had been cleaned at some point during their stay. He wasn't sure how long they had been there, but he knew he was supposed to be in Kyoto by the end of the week. How much time had he lost when they were knocked out?

A slight boy with dark blue hair styled in a smart bob entered the room after Yamato let him in. He moved gracefully, not unlike Yamato, but the way he carried himself promoted a sense of arrogance and pride. He held in his hands a tray with a beige ceramic teapot with a matching pair of teacups alongside a small plate of sweets. He bowed his head slightly, his narrow eyes squinted with what seemed to denote a smile. The look made Taichi uncomfortable, but from the grumbling in his stomach, he couldn't deny that he was hungry. The kuzumanju would not be enough to sate his appetite, but he accepted the cool confection gratefully and approved of the almost-perfect red bean filling. The tea made him feel warm in the summer heat, but not much could be done about that. Once he wolfed down the snack, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve and looked up at the boy. "That was great! Thanks!" he said with his trademark smile. The boy did not smile back.

Yamato hadn't even begun to eat his manju, but was drinking the tea delicately. He set down the handcrafted cup and flashed a smile of his own at the blue-haired boy whose beauty could rival his own. "This tea is wonderful, Mr. Ichijouji. Were you the one who prepared it?" he asked politely.

"I am. You're too kind, Mr. Ishida," Ichijouji replied sweetly. "It is such a fond coincidence that we both happen to be here!"

Lost, Taichi looked from Yamato to the boy called Ichijouji and felt the room's aura thicken with a sickly, venomous air. The two seemed to know each other already, but with Taichi's memory shot, he was not able to understand why there was such a fearsome dynamic in their otherwise friendly stares. _Either we've been here long enough that they've come to hate each other, or they know each other from before,_ Taichi thought, suddenly scared of the two pretty young men. After some superficially pleasant small talk and a quick cleanup of the few dishes he brought, Ichijouji bowed himself out of the room with another smug smile and shut the door behind him. When he was on the other side of the door, the boy called out in his deep, sugary voice that lunch would be served shortly. The samurai felt like he could finally breathe. "What was that all about?" he asked, his brown eyes worried and puzzled.

Huffing, Yamato arched his shoulders forward and glared at the door. "Remember my Kiyohime performance?"

"How could I forget?"

"That was the guy I was replacing. Ken Ichijouji," the musician said softly, his eyes darting back and forth from the door. He did not want to be heard as he gossiped. "I don't care for him much, because according to the Gion troupe, he often makes a mad dash when he doesn't get what he wants. I can't take it when people are irresponsible like that. You have duties to attend to, and you can't just leave them there and think they'll be there when you feel like coming back..."

Taichi heard a tinge of sadness in his friend's voice. Yamato wasn't only talking about his distaste in Ken, but something else, as well. This hardly seemed like the time for prying, so instead, Taichi wobbled over and sat on the floor next to Yamato's futon. They shared a look. He felt a strong urge to hug the blonde, but would that be too inappropriate? Instead, the two shared a moment of peaceful silence. Eventually, Yamato relaxed his shoulders and exhaled. The musician turned to Taichi and asked, "You still don't remember a thing, do you?"

The samurai gave a helpless grin and chuckled, voice cracking slightly. "Not a one."

He learned that they had indeed been situated at the inn for longer than he had hoped: a full three days had passed. Apparently, Taichi was having trouble with his memory, and was often found staring into space or forgetting to eat or drink. Ken assumed that Taichi must have hit his head, but Yamato argued that there was no sign of blunt force anywhere. Both the samurai and the musician were unscathed except for the wound that had been inflicted on Yamato's hand earlier. The elderly innkeeper and pretentious Ken decided it was best that the boys rest there until they were completely healed from whatever it was they were suffering from. Yamato recovered quickly, within the day: the mysterious ailment seemed to afflict Taichi's head the most.

"I was very worried. You would drift in and out, and sometimes you'd be here with me, but you would be so far away from the room we were in," Yamato explained gently. "I don't know what happened to you, Taichi, but it certainly seems serious."

It was Taichi's turn to feel worried for his health. What _had_ happened? All he could remember was tying to protect Yamato, a flash of red, and then falling into a deep sleep. He scanned the room. A statue of Kwannon would have sufficed, but the room was as minimalistic as possible without skimping on the basic necessities. "We need to head to the nearest shrine. This can't be anything tea and sweets can fix," Taichi muttered. "It had to have been something else. Something completely out of our hands."

"I saw a shrine close by, but I don't know anything about it," Yamato said. "Would that suffice?"

"As long as there's a monk and the merciful Kwannon, I think we'll be fine."

They left the inn with some difficulty, as Ken decided to intercept their departure with inane chat. The slim boy blocked the exit and smirked at them. "Leaving so soon?"

"We couldn't possibly be a burden on you any longer, Mr. Ichijouji. The hospitality was superb," Yamato said with a forced but gracious smile. "Please, leave a note for the innkeeper as well. I understand he's difficult to find and you're the only one who could be trusted with such a task."

"Of course." Ken bowed, his smile still poisonous when he looked at Yamato. Again, he ignored Taichi completely. "In any case, you paid quite a bit, so feel free to return. It looks like you still have another three days on your tab."

Tight-lipped and sour, Yamato merely bowed and pulled a confounded Taichi toward the shrine. The samurai immediately felt guilty, knowing that his traveling companion had paid for their lodgings. "Where did that money even come from, Yama?"

With a look of annoyance, the musician recounted the days that Taichi had lost. In order to pay for their lodgings, Yamato decided to sell his body in the guise of a geisha. He did not wear makeup, nor did he don any of the clothes, but he engaged in activities that many geisha were given: he was simply there to entertain, to charm, and to let people chatter with him as he served tea or some other beverage. Luck was with them, for rich and bored court ladies happened to be visiting Odawara castle, and Yamato was the perfect companion to tote around. An hour's wages was enough to pay for at least two months of inn fare. Taichi blinked, jaw dropped. "You mean - y-you mean you - you slept with, with..." he stuttered, almost tripping over his feet, forgetting that they were walking.

Yamato smacked him in the back of the head, blushing. "Don't be stupid. I didn't. Geisha don't do that. I mean, it's not like I was a geisha. But keeping them company for money, that's all I did. And it wasn't company in bed, okay?" He chose to ignore Taichi's sigh of relief.

After a grueling and awkward silent walk, the boys arrived at Ninomiya shrine. The place was tucked in the middle of a forest, and the couple had trouble believing that the shrine had existed before them. Strong, tall trees guarded the area from heat, and a surreal quiet blanketed the place. No one seemed to be around except for the samurai and the musician. Taichi felt the need to grab onto his sword, but Yamato placed his gentle hand on his to stop him. They continued walking through the noiseless forest. Dread did not stir in their stomachs; instead, curiosity had taken its place. Large stone statues adorned the place with a stylish simplicity, still functional in its purpose to drive away evil spirits. The torii gate was not the brilliant red of the ruddy kingfisher bird they were used to, but it, too, was made of stone. The place was built to give off a sense of security, sturdiness, and serenity. Yamato caught the glint of a pond nearby and wanted to go to it, but Taichi was the one who stopped him this time. They continued walking in a straight path, under the torii gate and into the cool wooden interior of the shrine.

"Have you ever been to this shrine before?" whispered Yamato. "I had only seen this in passing, and truthfully, I wasn't sure if it was real..."

"Not even once," Taichi replied, equally quiet. The walls seemed to absorb their speech. No candles were lit within the shrine, and not even the familiar shuffling of a flurry of Shinto priest's feet across the floor. For a moment, they believed that they had entered an abandoned place. Reason dictated that this could not be: it was clearly well-kept and clean, and there were signs that at least one person had been there recently.

The sound of sweeping caught their attention, and the boys whirled around in time to see an elderly man before them, a broom in his shaking hands. He smiled at them, his eyelids so swollen with age that they could barely see his sparkling brown eyes. "Welcome to Ninomiya shrine!" the man said with such a surprising amount of gusto that Taichi jumped. "That's not very polite!" he laughed, continuing to sweep as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

"Wh-Where did you come from?" Taichi stuttered, looking left and right. He could have sworn that no one was in the facility when they arrived, and no one had been following them, either. They would have heard the loud sweeping right away.

"Nowhere in particular. Little shrine, this is," said the curious old man. "What can I help you with today, boys?"

"Uh, well, my friend here...he's been having a little trouble with his memory."

The priest's eyes lit up. He stopped sweeping and his lips curled upward ever so slightly. He gave off the impression that he knew what the two were about to talk about, but he said nothing as Yamato began describing their time in Odawara. "I'm not too sure about what happened, exactly, because I was asleep before he was. But he said he saw some sort of red-beaked thing coming toward us, and he felt drowsy. Then we just ended up in the Odawara proper." The man nodded. And he continued nodding. At one point, Taichi thought that he would nod his head off, or at least nod off to sleep. But after many moments of what he assumed was a positive sign that the old man knew what was going on, he stopped nodding, and went back to sweeping.

Taichi was in the midst of interrupting him when the old man's jovial voice piped up again. He had the sort of voice that could startle a crowd out of a lull after a dull lecture on the origins of rice. "A strange predicament indeed. And you haven't been able to think clearly ever since, am I correct? Sometimes you feel like you're floating out of your body, and you don't hear anything until someone brings you back to earth."

"That - that's exactly right!" Taichi leaned forward, excited. He would be cured after all! "So you can help me, right? Since you know all this stuff!"

"In a matter of speaking, I suppose," mused the priest. "I am but a lowly priest. It's no cure-all, my young friend, but surely, I will pray for you."

"Good. That's great! Please, we very much need to get on our way back to Kyoto immediately, and..."

"You're on the run," the priest interrupted. Sweep, sweep, sweep went his broom, pleasantly and unassumingly.

The samurai hesitated. He hadn't given anything away. But he did tell this man his location. In his haste, and probably due to his clouded mind, he had forgotten the entire reason why they were heading to the old capitol. The first rule when one was undercover was to assume that everyone was your enemy, and Taichi had neglected that. He cursed himself. Another mistake could cost them their lives. Instinctively, his hand hovered over his katana once more. He didn't want to cut down an old man, but he swore to himself that he would protect Yamato, and in this day and age, many of the more famed samurai were ripe in their old age. This did not necessarily make them weaker: in fact, when a samurai comes closer and closer to death, they tend to become more powerful. Their strikes may make them seem berserk, but with their age came wisdom. The older the samurai, Taichi reasoned, the more accurate and deadly they became. He tensed himself as he darted his eyes toward the priest's feet. The hakama covered his legs, masking any movement or stance; they were doing their job. He steadied his breathing as best as he could, but did not reply to the priest's statement.

Unfortunately, he could not say the same for Yamato. "It is indeed a funny story, you see - " Taichi stepped on his foot, causing the musician to yelp. "What was that for?" the blonde hissed.

"Now, now, young samurai. There is no need to be rude to your friends," laughed the elderly man. "I was merely making an observation, and by the looks of it, I was right. And by the way, it had nothing to do with your companion, here. I could tell the moment your hand moved."

"Who are you?" Taichi asked, his heart beating fast from the adrenaline boost. He had to be cautious. Now that he remembered the reason for their trek, he regained the caution that he foolishly threw to the wind.

"You may call me Gennai," he said, sweeping toward the back of the shrine. "It is my understanding that you have experienced something ethereal. A slice of the supernatural, I should say."

The priest turned the broom upside down, tapping it slightly. An oonusa popped out from its center. Taichi raised his eyebrows in surprise. _So even priests have these sort of tricks_, he thought to himself as Gennai attached a small bunch of shide to it. Taichi was about to kneel down to pray, but he stopped. "I haven't cleansed myself," he realized. "Um...excuse my ignorance, but did I pass a body of water where I should have done temizu?"

Gennai said nothing and began to wave the wand over Taichi's head. It kept hitting his too-voluminous hair, so Taichi took this as a wordless command to kneel and pray regardless of purification. This was what was going on, after all. The priest began to chant words from another world, and Yamato prostrated himself before the priest as well. The air felt heavy, and Taichi felt his chest cavity undulate steadily. In the middle of his prayers, something grabbed hold of his body. It was not human, he was sure of it; it was as if a giant hand had plunged itself into his heart, pulling and tugging at some invisible square peg in a round hole. The procedure was painful at first, and Taichi could not properly explain what was happening to his body. As time went by, it did not bother him. He likened it to sucking out the poison in one's wound and spitting it out. Within what felt like hours, his body began to feel lighter, and the muddled images in his head began to focus itself once more. What he did not know was that he was actually floating, but both boys had their eyes shut in pious prayer. This may have been a Shinto shrine, and their prayers may not have reached Kwannon, but Gennai's connection to the spirit world was more than enough to help the young samurai get back onto his feet.

Expecting to arise with a bout of dizziness, Taichi sat up slowly. Thankfully, he did not experience any feelings of vertigo; in fact, he felt much better, and as energized as he was before they had even started their journey. There was no way for him to test whether or not he had been cured of his memory sickness, but he could not deny how fantastic he felt. Yamato was sitting up next to him, looking into his eyes. Taichi nodded, signifying that he was all right, and then turned toward Gennai. "Thank you, kind priest," he murmured. "I dunno what you did, but I think it worked."

The old priest smiled at the two, placed the wand back into his broom, and resumed his sweeping. "The world is a mess," he said with a big smile on his face. "But with friendship and courage, anything is possible. Along your journey in life, you will find that love, sincerity, kindness, and hope will make you stronger. Reliability and knowledge will help you grow as a person. All these elements will help you find the light that you need to survive."

He chuckled. "With you two, though, I sense both friendship and courage are particularly powerful. Do not forget these words. Our paths will cross again. Off you go, now."

Blinking, the boys bowed curtly and left, their gait stiff and steady. Without a doubt, the priest was weird, but they could not deny how helpful he had been. They exchanged glances and looked at their ema at the same time. Taichi's still read "courage", and Yamato's still read "friendship". Of course they did not change; how would they? But they could not help feeling that the old man knew more than he was letting on. It would be too much of a coincidence for him to know how their wooden charms had these exact words written on them, and nothing more. Neither of them knew it, but as Gennai spoke his parting words, these characters glowed with a faint orange and blue light. Ignorant to these facts, they boys checked their belongings and continued on their way to Kyoto.

* * *

><p>In the Ninomiya Shrine, Gennai had stopped sweeping. He was laughing to himself softly. Passersby, if there were any, may have thought him sick in the head. The few who would see him as an old man reliving his past through his memories would be the ones who were right. "I was right. So the Digimon have returned, as I expected. And those boys will be the ones who will save the world centuries over."<p>

With the click of his fingers, Ninomiya Shrine disappeared into the forest without so much as a whisper.

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><p><strong>Notes:<strong>

1. Odawara Castle in the Kanagawa prefecture is one of the fifty-three stations of the Tokaido, and the first one with a castle. It is one of the most famous stops on the Tokaido, and I assume it's for that reason. (They also have a wonderful radio station.) Oh yes, I totally dropped a Vonnegut reference right there.  
>2. Do listen to Taichi's rambling about swords! This is part of the stuff I researched. Also, I only assume that zelkova wood is used for the handles and such of blades, mainly because it's a tree that is widely available in Japan and is also used for making a lot of Japanese furniture. If it can hold heavy people, it should hold a blade, right?<br>3. I decided to equip Yamato with an ice pick, because when Digimon came out and it was all the rage, there was a Taito site that cracked me up like no other. The webmistress was Duchovnik and had a cameraman named Dave, and her weapon of choice was an ice pick. If you're out there, I still remember the awesomeness that was your website!  
>4. The Sakawa river runs alongside the way to Odawara.<br>5. Fun fact: Ishida Mitsunari was a retainer of Toyotomi Hideyoshi, and was known as a man with many friends, but tends to alienate many of his peers with his attitude. Sound like anyone we know? Hmm...and on top of that, I didn't even plan this. I came across it while I was doing more research. Oh, yes.  
>6. Great Gatsby reference! Can you spot it?<br>7. Kuzumanju is a traditional Japanese sweet, often eaten in the summer because of its cool texture. The red bean/azuki is wrapped with a layer of kuzuko (arrowroot flower) and resembles a mochi in appearance.  
>8. Yamato calls Ken by his last name even though he's younger, because it's polite to do so in Japan when you don't know a person that well. Of course, you'd add -san to the end of this, but I'm not writing in Japanese (my composition teachers would kill me for this - thank goodness I'm not in Japanese class right now). People on a first-name and even nick-name basis are assumed to be very close.<br>9. The Hotoku Ninomiya Shrine is a Shinto shrine in close proximity to Odawara castle. It deifies an actual person of history named Sontoku Ninomiya, who is known for having grown up in hardship but later became a renowned farmer whose harvests were fantastic beyond belief. Unfortunately, this doesn't quite go along with my timeline as it was built in the 1890s, but since our friend Gennai is also at the root of the place, we can assume other mysterious things are at work.  
>10. Quick Shinto lessons! An oonusa is the wooden wand that Shinto priests use in Shinto rituals. When you add shide (the zigzag shaped paper streamers), it is called a haraegushi. It's waved left and right to as a purification technique. Temizu is the practice of cleansing your hands, mouth, and sometimes feet before entering a shrine to purify yourself. Shinto and Buddhism are quite different: remember that Taichi was looking for a Buddhist temple, whereas Yamato said that he had found a Shinto shrine. It is not uncommon for a person to partake in both religions.<p>

Man oh man! My notes took up a good portion of the story, so it's not really as long as it seems, right? Yuk, yuk, yuk...also, snarky Yama-Ken stuff! Really, really fun to write, I must say.


	6. Chapter 6: The Red String of Fate

**Ukiyo ~ Floating World**  
><strong>Chapter 6: The Red String of Fate<strong>

**Disclaimer:** I still do not own Digimon and its respective characters to this day. Alas!  
><strong>Author's NotesThanks:** First of all, thank you all for your lovely reviews! Allow me to address some of the issues that may have come up. Yes, there are Digimon in this story. While I appreciate a good Taito fic, I feel that it is important to include the entities that helped bring them all together in the first place. However, the Digimon do not play a central role. Henceforth, be warned: the ships will run rampant in this story, except for Taito, because this OTP of mine is what got me writing again in the first place. I will not be catering to anyone's specific ships on purpose. That being said, I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Thanks again for all the support, and sorry this chapter took so damn long...it was more complex than I had intended.

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><p>The air outside was so heavy and humid that people wished they could shed their skins like snakes. They would do anything to comfort them from the summer heat, but for now, all the people could do was fan themselves lazily. Those who lived along the Kamo River were lucky. Young children could be heard laughing as they splashed in the cool water, and their mothers chuckled as they gossiped about this and that. Hikari, however, was quite far from her hometown of Kyoto. She had chosen to trek up to Mount Kurama for that day after her lessons at Kodaiji Temple. Climbing up to the shrines was a pleasant activity for the young girl, and she would always go out of her way to visit the holy place.<p>

It was said that Tengu resided on the mountaintop, and all of Mount Kurama was under their watchful eyes. In her childhood, Hikari had heard tales of the mythical creatures, some good, some bad. There were people who told stories of their glorious and mischievous ways, where Tengu were held in the highest regard. Her father was one of these people, a group who believed that Sojobo, King of the Tengu, trained the famous swordsman Minamoto no Yoshitsune many years ago on the very mountain she stood upon. She would always chuckle to herself when she heard such positive stories, knowing full well that her father would support anything, be it human or spirit, that created strong and brave warriors. But for all the people who found the Tengu to be a heroic race, there existed another group who found the possibility of Tengu lurking about frightening. These were people who were afraid of the Tengu, knowing them only to be harbingers of war, and thus, death and destruction. Regardless of what a person believed about the heavenly beings, many stayed away from Mount Kurama, for fear that they may fall victim to one of their many tricks. Though known from their characteristically bright-red faces and long, beak-like noses, the Tengu were not above disguising themselves as elderly monks or beautiful women to make fun of the humans.

But Hikari was not afraid. In fact, she willingly went to Mount Kurama every week to speak with the supernatural beings. The mountain was full of them, which was not surprising considering its spiritual energy.

She was just about to finish up a silly conversation about the difference between birds and bees when Hikari noticed something stranger than the Tengu. There was a boy about her age doing exactly the same thing as she was, and he only just noticed her the way she noticed him. His hair was golden, his eyes were blue, and his features were bright and childlike. He looked at her with an expression of curiosity, nodding to the Tengu, who sprinted off. His lean body was swathed in a plain burlap robe, and he carried a staff adorned with circular trinkets up at the top. Hikari froze as the boy started toward her, a slight breeze hitting her cheek and making her sunshine yellow kimono billow gently. She had never seen anyone else on this mountain before, especially not this boy who seemed so familiar with the layout of this world. Should she be afraid? Closer, closer, his footsteps could barely be heard on the soft earth beneath them. She wished her Tengu friend would have stayed with her, but now it was too late to run.

No. She wished that Taichi, her brother, had returned to her a week ago. But now he must have been dead. Hikari closed her eyes and knelt on the ground before the handsome stranger.

* * *

><p>Long after the strange incident with the old man named Gennai, Yamato and Taichi went along as they had before. They were in the midst of passing through Hara, and Mount Fuji loomed over them proudly. Taichi informed Yamato that they would have to rush through this area, even though it was a popular <em>shukueki<em>, or post town, where travelers were meant to rest. This was because the place would most likely be populous with samurai and other government officials. These higher-ups had their own areas, called _honjin_, special lodgings built specifically for them. In their current position, it would not be wise to stay here. Too many samurai knew Taichi's face and his family, and the boys were worse for wear. Though they had been attacked a couple of times, they were expecting to be ambushed and left for dead in several instances that never came true. To be short, they were afraid that things had become too quiet, and they did not want to induce a flash mob by staying at a place where many officials gathered in the first place. Yamato was still foggy on the details, but he knew that traveling with the samurai was dangerous. Taichi was a boy who could pass for either a Loyalist, who wanted to give power back to the emperor and stop relying on foreigners, or a Rebel, who believed that the change would be for the better of the country. In truth, Yamato was not sure if Taichi even had a side. He did not feel it was right to ask.

They did their best to look inconspicuous as they passed through the post town, but Yamato's beauty did not help them. After several samurai, who had been thankfully drinking at this early time of day, began to make lewd comments about the musician's backside, Taichi went to great lengths to restrain himself from violently teaching the brutes a lesson of his own. After letting them pass, he took some clean bandages from Yamato's lacquer box. The samurai wrapped the cloth several times around Yamato's head, making him look more like a burn victim rather than an idol. "Lookin' good there, Kiyohime," Taichi joked, linking his arms with Yamato's. "Now let's make it look like I'm taking my poor cousin in to the hospital in Yoshiwara, next town over. Or something."

"Taichi. If they know _your_ face, shouldn't this be the other way around?" grumbled Yamato, muffled under the layers of cloth.

"You may or may not have a point there."

The duo ducked into another hiding spot. "Okay. Let's see what we have to work with here. You're too pretty, and a lot of these guys probably know me or my pops already. Right. So we're going to have to work with disguises," Taichi said aloud to himself. He still looked at Yamato for approval, who nodded. "Bandages will work on at least one of us. Maybe you, since they're already on you, and..."

"Taichi. Your hair."

"What about it?"

"Your hair is what's going to get us spotted."

The samurai blinked incredulously and sustained a laugh. "Ho, ho, hoo! Wow, you almost got me there, Yama," he said, mid-guffaw. "My hair. Hah! Please."

"Taichi. You're going to have to do something about it if you're that serious about not getting caught."

"Yama, look, I'm telling you. We'll be fine and we don't need to do anything about my - "

Loud footsteps of samurai could be heard closeby, and Taichi and Yamato had little time to react. They shuffled further into the bushes hurriedly and held their breaths as they eavesdropped on the conversation. Taichi peeked out through a few of the leaves to get a better look. He bit his lip when he recognized the samurais' armor and faces. The Yagami family did not get along with this bunch; this much he knew. He squeezed Yamato's hand as a signal to remain hidden and silent.

The coarse laughter of the men resounded throughout the complex. Yamato focused his blue eyes on these so-called warriors. Right away he could assess that they were nowhere near Taichi's caliber; their stances were off, their voices too loud, and they were much too arrogant. His mind's eye worked to make them look undesirable (after all, they were enemies of his friend), though he had to admit that they weren't ugly. He knew that he wouldn't be a match for them, but if Taichi were to get involved, the winner would be a no-brainer. Even with these two oafs working together, Yamato was confident that Taichi would prove victorious. The thought made him feel smug, and he felt his body act on its own. He felt the strangest urge to taunt these men so he could watch his own samurai reduce them to a crying mess, but a hard tug from Taichi forced him down. Sighing inwardly, he admitted defeat and laid low beside his warrior and listened.

"...So I says to them, I says, 'Get outta here, yer trap just keep yappin' about western this, modern that, and I ain't about to deal with that!' and a' course I chop the guy down!"

"Hah! Suckers. Fool Rebels think they can get the better of us. Ain't no way we need the 'outside world' or whatever it is they call it. Power is power, and power is in this here sword I've got."

"Speakin' a' swords, y'know whose sword I got my eye on? Pretty much any of the Yagami swords, pure magic, they are," said the one with his dark hair slicked back. Yamato noted their accent; they were not from the Tokyo area, but he could not determine where they hailed from. He had trouble believing that these shady characters were supposed to be distinguished samurai. He would have to ask Taichi about how one became a samurai in these times later on. In the meantime, he felt Taichi squeeze his hand at the mention of his family's name.

"You're right, you're right. The old man's a good fighter. Wouldn't wanna get tangled with him," agreed the wavy, light-haired one. "But his boy, what a laugh! I bet I could take him on no problem. I swear, if I saw him and that stupid big hair of his, I'd cut 'im down fast and just take that sword for myself!"

Yamato squeezed Taichi's hand this time. _I told you so,_ he communicated with a glare. They held their breaths as the thugs passed by their hiding spot, hoping that Taichi's hair didn't stand out over the short leaves. But these men were not warriors of great discipline, and they spent the rest of their time joking about swords and women as they headed to the nearest pub. When they were finally gone, Taichi sighed and groped around for a thin, pliable vine. With difficultly, he started to smooth his hair down. Yamato held back a snicker as he watched his friend struggle for a good while longer before kneeling behind him to do the deed himself. Even with his hand injury, Yamato was able to tame Taichi's hair with a few simple movements, utilizing his ice pick to undo some of the tangles in the massive tuft of hair. A few strands still stuck out, but with his hair tied back, he looked presentable. _Presentable, but not quite Taichi at all_, Yamato thought with a laugh. _We're going to have to get him out of this as soon as we're in the clear. That's a definite._

They got up out of the bushes and dusted themselves off. The bandages were still on Yamato's head, but they had fallen around his face like a thin scarf wrapped around to form multiple layers. In this heat, he looked ridiculous. A pair of girls from a nearby inn had watched them emerge from the bush and giggled to themselves. Taichi glared at them as they walked past, and as he and Yamato crossed the path perpendicular to the girls, he could have sworn he heard them gossiping. "...Just like a couple, those boys!" "Oh, I know! Like Prince Genji and one of his retainers, a tale of lost love, oh, I know I'd read _that_..."

"Like hell we are!" Taichi snapped, causing one of the girls to jump. It did not stop them from giggling as they ran away. The samurai was fuming, and Yamato placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him down. He wanted to jump as those girls did, perhaps out of disgust or some other related feeling, but he found that he couldn't. He just looked straight at Yamato's calm face and complained about how stupid girls could be with their base rumors. And then they were on their way again.

"How long do you think it will take us to get to Kyoto?" asked Yamato.

"After Hara? Well, if we don't stop, three days. With rests, though, I think it'll take about five days. A week, tops."

"Somehow it didn't seem this long when I was on the way to that recital."

"You were expected there. You had permission from the bakufu," Taichi explained. "And you also weren't traveling with a guy like me."

"Fair point. You're the dangerous one, then," Yamato said with a grin. "You do give off that impression. It's no wonder those girls were being daft about their rumors."

Taichi looked at Yamato, trying to avoid his eyes. They were so blue he felt like he could drown in them, as if he had walked straight past the beach and right into the water without hesitation. "What do you mean by that? Did you even hear what they said? I mean, hah, how stupid, right, a tale of lost love, or Genji, or whatever, or...hah, hahaha!"

"Well, I know now, don't I?" he replied gently. "I hope this means I'm Prince Genji!"

"Like hell you are!" Taichi shot back, finally feeling himself smile without anger again. The boys playfully jabbed at each other as they stumbled back into the shadows, retracing their steps to the hidden pathway as the sun began to set. No one paid them any mind this time, and they did not have to brandish their weapons for the time being. But night was approaching fast, and they contained their laughter as they softened their steps on the forest floor.

* * *

><p>The sun was beginning to set, but Hikari did not mind. Her parents knew she was capable of defending herself, and often went to stay at the temples where she studied. The Yagami family was very fond of the religious grounds, and felt that there was no safer place for a woman. Although Hikari did not shave her head to display her rites of devotion to the Way, the way she carried herself reflected the qualities of a devout Buddhist nun. When prompted about this, Hikari would tell her parents that although she appreciated many of the Buddhist teachings, she still held the quest for knowledge above everything else. She hated nothing more than being left in the dark, especially for ridiculous reasons. Although it was socially acceptable for a girl to pursue studies at several temples, men still looked down on their gender. Hikari disliked it. But no matter how much the world did not want to accept her intelligence, she did not give way to the woes of the world. She always maintained a quiet, peaceful disposition, and avoided conflict whenever possible. But this did not mean she would keep quiet when she felt something was amiss.<p>

She had been staring at the wanderer for some hours now in complete silence. After the first few moments, she simply knelt before him as if she were in a temple respecting her teacher. The boy mirrored her, and closed his eyes. This went on for hours. Perhaps they thought each other to be spirits; it was easy enough for Hikari to see the boy as a ghost. She was certain that it wouldn't be difficult to surmise her as the spirit of a dead woman, scorned on the mountain. Such stories littered much of Japan's mythology, after all. But they were both quiet as mice as they meditated before each other. It was an odd sight to behold: two teenage children, perhaps about thirteen, who were both conversing pleasantly with Tengu before this moment. And now they sat across from each other, waiting for one or the other to move.

The mountain began to darken considerably. Hikari steadied her breathing, her eyes still shut, hoping the boy was doing the same. She was afraid that she would not be able to defend herself if she weren't aware, but something told her to stay put. Something would be happening soon. Instead of focusing on herself, she prayed for her brother's safety. _If you can hear me, merciful Kwannon, please protect my big brother. Protect this boy before me, as well, for I do not know of his story._

_Thank you. _Hikari opened her eyes, startled. She had _heard_ that voice inside her head. Her crimson eyes looked at the boy, but his eyes were still closed. She kept her gaze steady, feeling her heart beat faster. Speaking to Tengu was nothing. But a boy who spoke to her through some sort of telepathy? That was something she never thought she'd have to be ready for. _You and I, we're traveling on the same path. Our brothers do the same._

"Our...our brothers?" Hikari gasped. "You know Taichi? My brother? Where is he? Is he all right?"

_Your brother keeps my brother safe. My brother keeps your brother safe. They will be here soon. They are connected by the red string of fate. We are bound by that same string, though ours runs a different course._

_Do not be afraid._

She tried to remain calm. She breathed through her nose and exhaled through her mouth. The boy still did not move. Perhaps he _was_ a ghost, as she expected. Or perhaps he was a monk, the kind that fasted for days on end, alive, but not of this world. Hikari could not sit still, not now. Something told her that she could trust this boy, and he had just told her (in a manner of speaking) that Taichi was safe. But he had to come out of his meditative state to do so. Should she just wait? What would her brother do? _Probably rush into things without thinking,_ she thought with a small smile. She knelt back down and continued to meditate with him.

* * *

><p>Before the darkness of night consumed the scenery, the boys found a suitable spot in the forest for hiding and ambushing. They arranged their items, far and few, on the soil as neatly as they could. They had made good time fleeing from Hara, and Taichi decided to use the last bits of sunlight to help him sharpen his swords. He rummaged around his belongings and pulled out a lump of grit. He worked on his blade silently, taking utmost care to sharpen them appropriately. Yamato watched the boy work, thoroughly impressed. <em>Sometimes, I forget that he is a warrior. Especially when he goes off on his history lessons or takes care of his swords or talks about home,<em> thought Yamato, his heart skipping a beat. He felt himself blushing and looked away. _What on earth am I thinking? He's...he's a guy. Like me. And my friend, on top of that. I need to stop this._

He saw Taichi reach over and he recoiled slightly. The samurai raised his eyebrows, a confused look on his face. "Hey, calm down. I just wanted to sharpen your sword, too," he said with an apologetic grin. "Don't have to be so jumpy. We're pretty much out of hot water for time being, right?"

Holding open his hand as if asking permission, he let his eyes drop to the wakizashi he loaned to Yamato. Trying to hide his pink face, Yamato turned away and gave the sword back to Taichi by the scabbard. The boy bowed his head and began to work. The two were silent again; though not uncomfortable, Yamato found that he wanted to initiate conversation, and any kind, with his friend. "I've been meaning to ask," he began, crawling toward Taichi on his knees. He resembled a cat, the way he went to objects that piqued his curiosity. "Why is this sword so much shorter? You did tell me that it was for close combat, but for some reason, it feels like the 'samurai symbol' seems more important."

Taichi stopped polishing the sword and put it down slowly. For a moment, Yamato thought that he may have offended the boy by not knowing something that must have been common knowledge to everyone else. Taichi's eyes were focused on an point indistinguishable to Yamato. He was either thinking very hard or not thinking at all; in either case, he seemed lost to the musician, who began to twiddle his thumbs bashfully. He was about to apologize when Taichi finally spoke. "It's...well, it's for killing yourself. When you can't afford to lose a battle. You don't really lose if you're the one who takes your own life, so..."

Yamato was shocked. He was not expecting the answer. Close-range fighting, sure, that was understandable. Even a tale about how the first samurai in Japan just liked carrying two around would have been acceptable. But suicide? No, no, that couldn't be right. No matter how many times Yamato felt despair, he always knew in his heart that life was precious. He stayed alive so he could accomplish things that his family would not let him. "Could...could you really just...throw away your life like that?" he spat at Taichi, surprised at his patronizing tone.

"It's not that simple, Yama!" the samurai shot back. "If someone's after you, and they've got you on the ropes, and you know there's no hope of surviving, you _never_ give them the satisfaction of the kill! Never! Because they will take your head, they will put it on a stake, just like you saw in the river back there! They will put you there and they won't care who you are. But if you take your own life, you do so knowing damn well who the hell you were and you take your dreams with you and it's _yours_, not theirs!"

Shaking, Yamato felt his hands ball into fists as he stared at his friend coldly. "So you shelf any hopes of survival, then? You think you're at your wit's end, so you choose to end it yourself? What about the merciful Kwannon? What then, if she bestows her mercy, and you've already plunged a sword into your stomach? It's too late then, isn't it?" he said, unable to lower his voice. "Isn't it?"

"The _world_ isn't merciful, Yama, it isn't - "

"You think I don't know that? I ran away from home! I had to become a man at eight years old, Taichi! Eight! I ran because my father tried to beat me into submission so I could be his perfect warrior, the way he thought he was! My mother left me and took my younger brother, whom I tried so hard to protect! And even through all that, I had to force myself to live, to endure!" he said frantically, blue eyes wide with anger. "I wanted to die, I did, there is no doubting that! I thought my existence was for naught because my father didn't want me, and my mother and brother abandoned me! But something told me to keep going!"

"You are no warrior!" Taichi roared. "You are _not_ a warrior! You will never be a warrior! You might be carrying my sword and your ice pick, but you will never be a warrior and you will never understand what it means to die with honor!"

The musician chuckled to himself. Taichi looked at him incredulously; who could laugh at such a time? But the samurai realized that Yamato did not find the situation funny at all. Just laughable. The same way that an owl finds a crippled mouse running away from him laughable. The strangest things can make a human smile. A baby's laugh, for example, is wildly different from a murderer's laugh. But under similar situations, or stranger ones, in any case, both the baby and the killer will find that pups make them smile. Or perhaps the baby will grow into the killer. Taichi's thoughts took on this odd form, question after question, as Yamato continued to laugh.

"Honor," Yamato croaked, crooked grin plastered on his face as he looked helplessly at Taichi. "You die for honor, and you're the only one who knows..."

"That - that is the way of the samurai, Yama, you know this," muttered Taichi, an unsettling feeling growing in his stomach. He did not expect Yamato's pain to transfer into his very being. And all the boy had to do was laugh, speak, _exist_! Why did it affect him so? "You know this."

Yamato's chest, now heaving with his thick breath, rose and fell with difficulty as he gazed at Taichi with stony eyes. After catching his breath as best as he could, a shudder ran through his veins and he spoke. "I'm not a warrior. You called me an artist, once. And I think that label suits me. But you know, I don't know if warrior suits you, either." He sat up, body erect, eyes never moving from Taichi's face. "You are not a cold-blooded killer. You are not a soldier. You're my age, correct? Tell me, Taichi, has there been a war going on since we've been born?"

"...No," Taichi replied sullenly. "The Edo period has been a time of great peace."

"And you haven't been on the battlefield, have you? That man you killed, you did it to protect me. You would do that for anyone you felt responsible for. You're not a killer. You do not kill based on orders," Yamato continued, seemingly oblivious to the rest of the world. "I know this because my father lusted for blood. He had not been in a war himself. This age has gone on for years, hasn't it? More than two hundred years! So even my father, who had never seen true battle, wanted to kill, because his father's father and his father before him have known the so-called beauty of war and violence. And then they expected that bloodlust to journey through our veins into the new age. As far as I know, it ends with me. I can only pray that my brother escaped that fate as well."

The samurai couldn't make heads or tails of this. All of a sudden it seemed like too much information to take in. Yamato's pain, his history, his life. The way he spoke with his silken voice was so dreadfully beautiful that Taichi couldn't help but listen, and in turn, he couldn't help but feel what Yamato had felt and was feeling at this very moment. The connection between them was frightfully strong, as if their souls were tethered together by some unknown force. What he considered to be his courageous warrior's heart, strong as a tiger, now felt belittled around this musician who unexpectedly resembled a fearsome dragon.

"Things need to change," said the musician softly. And he slumped over, his body shivering with cold, out like a candle in the wind. Startled, Taichi crawled over to him in alarm.

"Yama? Yama, Yama! Oh, God...merciful Kwannon!" Taichi wailed. He put his shaking hand to Yamato's forehead and pulled his dear friend's body onto his lap. The musician was burning with a fever. Immediately, he turned his attention to the wound on Yamato's hand. _Please don't be infected,_ he prayed to himself, hesitantly looking beneath the bandages. _What would my mom do? When I was sick...what did she do...?_

Racking his brain, Taichi struggled to remember the last time he had been sick. Nervously, he looked left and right, hoping he could find something, anything to comfort Yamato. He recalled his mother rubbing his stomach. Never mind what Taichi's sickness had been; he assumed that anything his mother did acted as a cure-all. Yamato was still shaking, hands cold to the touch but forehead too warm. He only groaned as Taichi massaged his stomach firmly. The samurai bit his lip. He was no nurse, no doctor, no priest. What could he possibly do? For the remainder of the night he applied remedy after remedy (of the things available to him in the wooded area they were in) that he believed his mother would do, but nothing seemed to help. Finally, with a great sigh, he let Yamato rest. He prayed to Kwannon that Yamato would be better in the morning. With Yamato fast asleep, Taichi forced himself to stay awake. After all, he did want to protect Yamato.

To be sure, the musician knew nothing about being a warrior, but it never occurred to Taichi that taking one's life could be such a bad thing. As a samurai, the lesson had been engraved into his skull since he could speak. Honor was of utmost importance to the samurai. There was nothing else but shame in that respect. He beheld the boy's porcelain face carefully. Just moments ago, he felt his brain filling up with Yamato's chilling words. It was too much to take. Yamato's life was so different from his own! To think, there were moments where this beautiful boy wanted to die because life turned on him. Quite different from Taichi's line of duty - dying was just a part of his life, and he accepted it, and he didn't mind dying for what he believed was his purpose. But Yamato made a valid point. Taichi did not actually take part in any war, and he was not training for any war, and as of right now, he was just defending himself and his friend against Loyalists and Rebels and whoever else wanted them dead for their beliefs (or lack of it). He shook these thoughts from his head and looked at the boy. Yamato may have been delirious, spouting nonsense in his illness, but the words he spoke were true. Now he was lying on the ground, and the most Taichi could do was rub the boy's stomach when he probably didn't even have a stomach ache to begin with.

Grumbling to himself, Taichi slumped back, thumping his against the grainy tree trunk. A flurry of leaves fell down on his face. With a scowl he brushed them all off impatiently, but his eyes twinkled with the shadow of an idea. He hit the tree again and again, causing a small storm of the same dried, crinkly leaves from before. He positioned Yamato into a leaning stance, so that there was no empty space between the boy and the tree. Then he grabbed handful upon handful of the leaves and tossed it over the blonde; though a very loud business, he still had a good amount of light, and there were still a few travelers on the road who must have assumed him to be an animal. The ground was still too dry to sport any mud, so the samurai took a bit of the water they stored and poured it on the soil and mixed it with his hands. Attempting some sort of finesse, he applied the brown mixture onto Yamato's face. He sighed, admitting that he wasn't much of an artist, but at least his friend looked relatively camouflaged in the makeshift disguise. Finally, he knelt next to the musician, touched his hand, and whispered, "Sit tight, Yama. I'm going to get you some medicine. I'll be right back. You'll be fine here." Making sure the cord Yamato tied around his hair was still securely fastened, Taichi dashed back toward Hara.

He made it there within twenty minutes, just as the moon began to rise. Huffing, he sprinted to the nearest public lighted area. "'Scuse me, is there a place where I can get medicine around here?" he called.

Of course, Taichi was a lucky sort of person, and he happened to barge into the pub where the thugs from earlier were settled and plenty drunk. They turned to him with a grimace and a hiccup, and the samurai cursed under his breath. He shook his head a bit, making sure that his large hair was under control, thanks to Yamato's styling. Taking a deep breath, he smiled as genially as he could, though from past experiences he knew that his face looked like that an uncomfortable chimp. The dark-haired one had a lazy eye and a dizzy smirk as he staggered toward Taichi. "Med'cine? Whatcha need that fer, chump?" His breath was rank with several shots too many, and his face was bright red. "Y'sick? You gotta be, right? Ha! You weakling!"

"Yeah, what are ye, anyway?" the light-haired one was small and child-like, still a boy, his skin tanned from staying out in the sun too long. His purple eyes were oddly large and deceptively innocent, but there was a clear glint of cruelty in them. "You a little samurai boy, huh? An' all by yerself!"

Taichi realized that the two must have come from the Kansai area based on their accents. A Kyotoite at heart, Taichi also enunciated things a bit differently and at times used different words, but he deduced that these two had become samurai not by blood, but as volunteers. They were probably farmer's boys or merchants; they probably ran away from home in search of a better life as a samurai. The practice had become common in their day and age, mainly because samurai held much prestige and were several classes above everyone else. Although Taichi's ancestor made the samurai class an honor by bloodline, this didn't stop others from trying to attain the status. In fact, his friend Koushiro was one of those samurai, in a manner of speaking. The administrators did not want to admit Koushiro Izumi because he was the son of a merchant, the lowest rung of the social circle. But after some research was done, they found that the boy was adopted by the mercantile family and actually possessed the blood of a retainer of Oda Nobunaga. They kept this fact hidden and admitted him straight away. But Taichi did not know these thugs, and did not know their histories, but based on their mannerisms, he could assume all he wanted.

Their stances were slouched, lazy. Their hands gravitated toward their blades with a twitchy sort of movement, and more often than accepted. He watched the dark-haired one push unarmed weaker beings around in the pub, even when the patrons were not bothering them. This was only allowed when the commoners did not show deference to them, and it was frowned upon when samurai forced it out of others. This was especially true when the "others" were in no way aggressive or meant any disrespect. Why, this was a public establishment! A true samurai would sit and behave, take his beverage with a quiet, reserved dignity. But these samurai were merely boys pretending to be men, bullying people about left and right. Taichi took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his mind. "I just want to know where I can get some medicine," he repeated firmly. "My, ah, cousin is sick."

"Ain't you a sweet one," drawled the younger-looking one. "Why didn't the missus get it instead?"

"She's taking care of him."

"Ah, so responsible, this one," mocked dark hair in a condescending tone. "You best be running along, now. Don't want to worry yo' mama!" The duo shared a loud guffaw, holding their bellies as if making fun of Taichi were the funniest thing in the world. The barkeep remained silent, his terrified eyes darting around. He looked ready to duck under his counter as soon as trouble started. Taichi certainly wanted to start something, but now was not the time. While he was here, Yamato was off in the woods, suffering from a fever. He had to get that medicine, and fast. _Of all the places to visit first,_ Taichi thought, exasperated. _It had to be the one with these goons!_

"I really don't have time to deal with you," Taichi said coolly. "I've got somewhere to be, so it'd help if you_ kindly_ told me where I can get some medicine."

"Little man's got some nerve," growled light hair, who was, coincidentally enough, shorter than Taichi. His hand wavered dangerously over the hilt of his sword. "Talkin' to us like that. We're samurai, y'know? Show some respect, or we'll make you bow. And your _cousin_ will see your head somewhere around, maybe near Mount Fuji! And who knows, maybe he'll _die_ in the process - "

These boys were often caught procrastinating around Hara, boasting about their godly speed when it came to battle. But no amount of boasting could rival Taichi's lightning-quick reflexes, honed since childhood and pumped through his blood. Within seconds, the thugs were rendered useless, quivering in the corner after Taichi's Guren'imon sliced through their belts. Their swords clattered to the ground, and their eyes were wide with terror. It took a very skilled swordsman to cut only the belt on one person; why, forget even talking about two people's belts! But Taichi did just that. He was well-known for his accuracy and speed with a sword in Kyoto, though the cowering samurai would have no way of knowing that. "Wh-Who are ye?" whimpered the dark-haired one.

Taichi undid the cord securing his hair, allowing it to grow to its full size. Their eyes widened. "Your worst nightmare," Taichi sneered. "Now tell me where I can get some medicine, or you will get the sword you asked for."

"Y-Ye heard us? O-Oh, th-that was n-nothing!" continued dark hair, his bottom lip quivering as he realized that the boy before them was a Yagami. "It was just a joke, a harmless joke, yeah!"

"The, uh, just...a couple houses down, with the bright red _noren_ curtains," said the child-like boy, his nose now running. Crouched in a fetal position, he looked no older than eight years. "It l-looks like a ramen shop, b-but they 'ave the best medicine! Ye gotta ask fer the old woman, she's the one who makes them! Please, d-don't hurt us..."

Taichi bowed and walked out of the establishment serenely, disguising the proud grin on his face. He found the place with no trouble, and the old woman they spoke of was manning the shop. She was very kind and listened carefully to Taichi's description of Yamato's ailment, and provided him with a satchel of herbs. She even turned down Taichi's money. "I heard the scuffle from here, dear. Those two boys are my grandchildren, and they're always causing a fuss. Since my husband died and their father ran off with another woman, there's no one left to take care of them, poor souls," she said with a frail smile on her lips. There was a very faint trace of Kansai dialect in her speech, which Taichi complimented. "Thank ye, dear. It is always nice to have someone from the Old Capitol."

"You know your dialects," said Taichi, bowing deeply. "You're some ways from home, ma'am. By any chance, could you tell me how long it takes for the medicine to take effect?"

"Usually it works within about half the day. If yer traveling with someone, though, it'll slow ye down. Ye might want to try and hitch a ride, dear," replied the old woman. "The Tokaido's been rightfully dangerous these days. Ye must be careful, child."

"My thanks," Taichi said with another bow. "But with all due respect, I don't think catching a ride will be the easiest for me."

"Oh, my, that sounds awful! Heading to Kyoto, I presume?"

Taichi nodded as he stuffed the satchel into his robes. "My family's waiting for me. I should have been there about a week ago."

"Poor child! Please, listen. I owe the people of this little town much for the damage my grandchildren have caused. It's only right that they make up for things," the old woman said with a deep bow of her own. "And I can see from yer eyes, no matter how hard ye hide it, that you're of a very high-ranking samurai family. Why, yer probably hiding a crest behind your many robes right now. It's strange as is, by the way, since it's summer!"

The samurai cocked his head in curiosity. "Ma'am, with all due respect, I can't possibly trouble you any further," he said politely.

But elderly people have developed a habit of nurturing younger ones regardless of what time period they are in, and she would not back down. With enough cajoling, she managed to scoot Taichi back to the pub to regain control of her delinquent grandchildren. With the help of Taichi's sword and the old woman's new-found backbone, they managed to convince the boys two drive a delivery cart to Kyoto the next day. "One move ye mess up, boys," threatened the grandmother, "And I'm sure our gracious friend here will not hesitate to teach you a lesson. I've given him permission to do that, whether you're samurai or not. So you behave! You've done nothing good for this town and y'all will either shave yer heads and become monks or do this one good deed or so help me, Kwannon have mercy on ye!"

Herein lay the very basic nature of Taichi's good luck. Beaming, he rushed back into the woods, thankful that Yamato was still exactly where he had left him. He knelt down next to the musician and put a hand to his forehead. _You're still burning up,_ thought Taichi, reaching into his robes for the satchel of herbal medicine. _I'm sure this'll help. Keep your head up, Yama! You've followed me this far, and I'll get you through. I swear it on Guren'imon._ With the rest of the water in his pouch, he mixed the herbs with the liquid and tilted it into Yamato's mouth. Taichi felt himself flush as the spout parted the pretty boy's lips. Even when his face was smothered in mud and his body covered in leaves, Yamato was every bit as beautiful as a cherry blossom. He found himself holding onto Yamato tighter, making sure he drank every last drop of the medicine. From afar, one would assume that he was cradling a lover who had fallen asleep in the wood. But Taichi was not a very creative nor imaginative boy, and to him, there was nothing odd about what he was doing. It was completely natural for him as a samurai to take care of something so fragile and handsome as Yamato Ishida. To him, that was the equivalent of the artfulness and grace all samurai were supposed to possess.

After making sure that Yamato drank the serum (and ignoring the boy's sputtering protests as he woke up with an angry, "What are you _doing_?"), Taichi lifted him in his arms regally. "This is why _I'm_ Prince Genji," Taichi said with a triumphant grin, looking down at Yamato. "Now it's like you're Princess Kiyohime!"

"Stop calling me that," Yamato mumbled, dazed by the fever. Regardless of his annoyance, he clutched Taichi's robes tightly, as if afraid he would fall out of the world.

"Off we go then!"

"Where are we going?"

"We've got a ride to catch," said the good-natured samurai jovially. "We'll be in Kyoto before you know it. And you can learn all you want at Kodaiji Temple. And then act on the weekends!"

"You're a really weird guy, Taichi," Yamato replied sleepily, rubbing his face. "Wh...What's on my...what's this on my face?"

"Nothing!" With that, Taichi sprinted off toward Hara, Yamato in his arms. For the time being, he was just glad that the musician seemed to have forgotten all about what he had said about the complex honor system of the samurai. "To Kyoto!"

* * *

><p>When Hikari stopped meditating, she was surprised to see that the boy had fallen over in slumber. The moon was already high in the sky, now dark as lacquer, and the wind was warm and gentle as it passed by them. She quietly made her way toward him, unsure of what to do. She looked around, but there were no homes in sight. Just as she was about to give up, a tall, slender woman with light hair and brilliant blue eyes walked toward them slowly. Her pretty eyes widened and softened as she approached. "Oh, dear," she said quietly, kneeling next to the boy. Hikari was frightened for a moment, wondering if <em>this <em>woman were a ghost of Mount Kurama. But her fears subsided when she picked up the blond boy in her thin arms, stroking his hair with the sleeve of her rust-colored kimono. It was clear that this woman was the boy's mother.

"Are you a friend of his?" she whispered.

Hikari looked around and offered an apologetic smile. "I just met him," she replied, voice also lowered. She wasn't quite sure why they were whispering, but she assumed that it was better not to upset the spirits. There was a graveyard nearby, and Hikari was taught that the dead preferred quiet when it was not time for celebration. "I didn't realize I had been out for so long."

"You must come inside. It is far too late in the evening for a young woman like yourself to roam the streets without a friend," said the kind woman. "I understand that I am a stranger, and this is not a common practice. But please, for your safety, it is best to stay with us. I know you must think I am a ghost, a spirit, but this is not true."

The woman pointed to a faint light nearby. Hikari failed to recognize it at first, possibly because she was convinced that the mountain was littered with spirits. But after the woman made it clear, Hikari realized that it was a simple hut. Though this did not make her feel any better, the girl felt that she could trust this lady. After all, her son had just made some sort of otherworldly connection with her brother. She had heard of shamans before, but this was her first time actually meeting one, assuming that was what they were. In any case, the woman had a point: it would be too dangerous for her to return to Kyoto under these circumstances. She bowed deeply to the mother and her child, and followed her obediently into the straw hut.

Another breeze blew past, this one more gentle than the last. Hikari, the woman, and the mysterious boy crawled into the humble place, and the woman made separate beds of straw and leaves for the children and herself. Hikari found that she was exhausted, and fell asleep immediately. She had pleasant dreams that night, of finding her brother with the red string the boy had spoken of before.

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><p><strong>Notes:<strong>

1. Tengu are mythical creatures that are said to reside in Mount Kurama in Japan. If you visit the area today, you'll find a plethora of long-nosed masks! Great souvenirs!  
>2. Hara is the 13th station of the Tokaido road, and would take about nine hours from Odawara on foot. Mount Fuji can easily be seen from this point in Shizuoka.<br>3. And now, I can explain the significance of the red string/thread of fate. This is a myth/legend that originated in China and has also made its roots in Japan. Apparently, the gods tie a red string around the ankles (or, in Japan, the little finger) of those destined to meet each other in some way, shape, or form. It is said that those connected by this string were/are/will be lovers at some point, and though it may tangle and stretch, it will never break.  
>4. The Edo period (also called the Tokugawa period) spanned from 1603-1868 in Japan. My story takes place in 1867, or somewhere very close to the cusp of change that will become the Meiji period (1868-1912).<br>5. According to Asian lore, the dragon and tiger tend to be portrayed as opposites and therefore a balance of power (north/south, the famous rivals Uesugi Kenshin and Takeshi Shingen, a hard/soft style of fighting). Apparently, in Shaolin martial arts, the tiger style tends to attack more head-on (a "hard" style) whilst the dragon uses circular, flexible attacks (a "soft" style).  
>6. In Japan, there are several dialects that are spoken, but some of the main ones that are often compared are Kanto and Kansai. They're essentially the same, but Kansai has different tones and uses a different grammar set (and vocabulary at times) than the "traditional" Kanto dialect. Many people say that people from Kansai tend to be funnier, but that's just a stereotype.<br>7. I'm a bit hazy on the qualifications for samuraihood during the Edo period. On one hand, Wikipedia says that Toyotomi Hideyoshi created a law that made samurai hereditary; thus, only those who followed Oda, Toyotomi, or Tokugawa as samurai were allowed to be samurai. On the other, Hillsborough's book details the story of a samurai who was a lowly farmer and basically _applied_ to become one, even during this time. Confusing! In any case, my story follows Hillsborough's arc.  
>8. In many accounts of Japanese myth and folklore, any woman you find in the evening in a place that seemed to be without people meant that she must be a demon, which accounts for Hikari's fear.<p> 


	7. Chapter 7: A Shrine for A Wish

**Ukiyo ~ Floating World**  
><strong>Chapter 7: A Shrine for A Wish<br>**

**Disclaimer:** I still do not own Digimon and its respective characters to this day. Alas!  
><strong>Author's NotesThanks:** Whoa, sorry this took so long! Thanks for sticking with me this far! It's my birthday today and I figured I might as well end this chapter. I'd been working on it for a while and there wasn't much research to go off of, but Nissaka sounds like a lovely place to visit. Let's hope I can churn out another chapter faster this time around...

* * *

><p>The air smells sweeter, the sky brighter, and life lovelier when one does not have to toil. Yamato and Taichi were seeing life as if through a delicate cherry blossom translucent in the water as they rode in what the old woman called a cart. In actuality, it was a sturdy old palanquin, a relic from the earlier years of the Tokugawa era, meant for toting around the ever-important samurai. The boys grinned to themselves as they chatted gaily, delighting in the constant breeze that blew past as four resident samurai from the post town of Hara carried their weight. The two in the front were the young men who provoked Taichi, whose names turned out to be Dabumon and Doukeshi. The other "volunteers" went by Kyuuketarou and Etekou. Although the men enjoyed causing trouble in Hara, they backed down when Taichi made a display of his now-obvious dominance. Taichi had to admit that he was secretly grateful for the old woman's newly acquired command of power; traveling on a palaquin certainly made the trip to Kyoto much faster and plenty times more leisurely.<p>

Yamato had recovered from his fever in a little less than a day thanks to the herbal medicine the grandmotherly woman concocted, and presently he was laughing along with Taichi. "This is what I call travel," he remarked with a carefree grin. "I don't know if I can ever walk again after traveling in this."

"Sorry, Kiyohime. Even samurai today don't get this luxury, darling," Taichi responded with mock distress, caressing Yamato's cheek playfully as if they were an elite couple among the ranks of the .

"Oh? Why's that?" Yamato asked, brushing a hand through his soft blond hair with a flourish and ignoring Taichi's ridiculous pet name for him. He was, however, clearly enjoying the star treatment.

"I'll give you a hint: it has to do with why you followed me out here on the first place," replied Taichi, happy to have his hair free from restraining cords once more. Yamato expected a hint of annoyance in his voice, but there was none to be found. The slim samurai was currently reclining blissfully on the beautifully polished wood, hands behind his head.

The musician pondered on this for a moment, and he stringed together his answers carefully. Rebels, Loyalists...and the thing that connects them all would be... "Foreign influence?" Yamato asked meekly, as if he were taking a test.

"Bingo, but you probably shouldn't say this stuff aloud, Yama," replied Taichi in a lazy voice, pulling a fan from the floor of the palanquin and giving himself a gust. "It's light out, but you don't want to be associated with the wrong kind."

Mulling over this, Yamato reached for his lacquer box, freshly filled with supplies courtesy of the old woman of Hara. He pulled a couple of candies from the box and chewed on them thoughtfully. Soon, he would be in Kyoto, the Old Capitol, and soon, he would have access to the temple where Taichi had his education. Life in Odaiba was now far away. A worrisome thought occurred: how long has it been since he had left home? He guessed about a week or so, considering all of the mishaps they had gotten themselves into. Perhaps it was longer. He didn't even know how long he had been sick for, or what caused his illness. In any case, he was glad to be well again, and his hand had even begun to heal over. He no longer needed to keep it bandaged, and this was a great relief to him. He hated being unable to use his hands. Turning to Taichi, he pulled the flute that Master Kengyo had packed for him. "Shall I play a tune?"

"That sounds exquisite, dear," Taichi said with a slight nod, accentuating the use of the word he rarely used, eyes closed in his restful position. Chuckling and suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed at the feigned affection the samurai couldn't seem to stay away from, Yamato put the flute to his lips and played a lighthearted tune. Taichi lifted his arms and traced the air with his finger as if he were directing his own symphony as he listened. "Ah, what a beauteous melody, sweet dove," said the samurai with a heap of panache, pretending he was an actor. "If I were...uh, a bird - I mean, if you were a bird, I would wish that you would never stop playing!"

The musician allowed his lips to curve into a small smile, but he didn't stop until his song was finished. "You're ridiculous, you know that?" he said teasingly, punching Taichi's arm gently.

"Oy, lovebirds, keep it down," huffed the dark-haired Dabumon. "We're tryin'a work here. Y'all are pretty heavy, so this ain't no walk in the park for us, y'know?"

"You lot wouldn't be involved in this if you weren't jerks in town," Taichi remarked.

"Yer jus' lucky that Grams was soft on ye," muttered the baby-faced Doukeshi. "How did y'all even manage to get through the Tokaido without getting attacked, anyway?"

"That's for us to know and you to shut up!" replied Yamato's palanquin mate. The Hara boys muttered inaudibly from that point on as they carried their burden further.

An upside to their presence was that they were all very fit, and were also very fast. Nothing fazed them, and luckily, weather was on their side. By the time the end of the day approached, they had covered more than ten of the fifty-three posts of the Tokaido. They were to stop at Nissaka to rest before tackling the difficult mountain path ahead. It grew dark very quickly, and once again, they were not followed. Yamato had fallen asleep for a spell, and when he woke up, he was greeted with the sight of a shrine. Taichi explained that this was the Kotonomama Hachimanguu shrine, the western entrance to Sayo no Nakayama, one of the hardest obstacles to conquer on the Tokaido. As the four Hara samurai set Yamato and Taichi down, they stretched and yawned, walking straight into the shrine without purifying their hands. The musician blinked at this show of impoliteness, but Taichi spoke, resting an arm on his shoulder. "Don't be so hard on them. We just traveled a good fifty miles or so, and they didn't stop once. These guys are fast. Not the brightest bunch, but they're sturdy," he said to the blond. "Let's just get some rest and make sure they can take us through the mountain."

The air was unnaturally chilly that night, and Yamato shivered in his thinning garments. His skin felt sticky with heat since they did not have a chance to bathe for the entire day. He opened and shut his mouth, feeling his tongue on the inside, and tasted the unpleasant flavor of being woken after sleeping for too long. He breathed in the air and took in the woody area around him. Even in the nighttime, the shrine was lovely and smelled of fresh foliage. Tiny bamboo shoots grew from the unkempt parts of the shrine, and his stomach rumbled for a hot meal with chopped bamboo, but this was hardly the time. He followed Taichi into the interior of Kotonomama Hachimanguu after cleansing himself with the holy water provided outside and meditated for a few minutes before getting up to explore the place.

Although he had gone through the path before, Yamato had no recollection of passing through. This was because old Kengyo found a person to take them across the mountain path, and the young musician had fallen asleep during the trip. The boy decided not to say anything, feeling like a useless traveler for knowing nothing of the terrain around him. _Well, that's all going to change with this trip, won't it?_ thought the musician, inhaling the mountain air deeply for a few more moments to help clear his head. The unruly warriors were already fast asleep on the shrine floor despite the disapproving looks of the monks who tended to the place. Taichi turned to the bald holy men and grinned at them with a helpless shrug, as if to apologize for his retainer's behaviour. Holy men as they were, they straightened themselves up and went back to their business.

Yamato was not sure what time of day it was. He knew it was nighttime, and the full moon hung high in the inky sky. He assumed that it was a little past the usual time he ate supper and decided that he was not yet tired. His companion samurai sidled up to him and smiled. "How are you feeling?" he asked, keeping his voice as low as possible when he noticed a monk whip his head toward him with an unkind look. "The monks here are used to visitors, but I think they actually had the shrine to themselves tonight until we walked in."

Smiling back and nodding at the explanation, Yamato surveyed the small shrine. It did not take long; like many shrines, it did not take up too much space, and the decorations were sparse. They were the simple characteristics of a Shinto shrine. On the outside, he noted the noticeboard that they had passed. Several edicts had been posted to the sturdy wooden board, ranging from mailing fees to barring people from housing "hidden Christians". The most recent sign was violently scratched out, and Yamato could barely make out the words "Loyalist" and "Rebel". _And yet we're the only ones here_, Yamato thought with a furrowed brow. _Does this mean that they've taken out all the sympathizers? Or the Rebels or the...what am I even talking about anymore? Are we even safe here?_

"What's wrong? You look a little pale, Yama," Taichi said. He sounded very concerned, which surprised Yamato. "You still feeling a little feverish?"

"N-No, that's not it," replied the musician, his cheeks flushed in response. "I think...it's a bit early for sleeping. Do you mind if I step out for some fresh air? My head feels a little...jumbled, I suppose. I'm still in shock after you told me how far we'd gone since Hara..."

"Sure. Do you want me to come with?"

"I think I'll be fine," Yamato said quickly. He was a burden on the samurai long enough, and for once, he wanted Taichi to have a little rest without having to worry about him. Once again, regrets for coming along began to creep up on him, and besides that, he was having trouble sitting around the brunette without his heart attempting to beat out from his chest. "I'll just be right there. I won't be far."

"Okay. Just be careful. It's quiet out, but you never know what that could mean," warned the boy warrior.

Yamato knew that it was best to trust Taichi's instincts and nodded. "If anything happens, I'll just play this tune on my flute," Yamato said, playing a simple four-note melody. F, A, B, F...the notes had a mysterious ring to it, and it sounded curious enough to the musician. He played it a few more times until Taichi could whistle it out. The samurai nodded and watched his friend bow out of the shrine.

It was against Taichi's nature to follow someone out, no matter how curious he was. If it were a woman, the consequences would be especially dangerous. But Yamato was a man, and a surge of energy rushed through the samurai. He wanted to follow the handsome musician. He wasn't just worried; the moment the blond left, Taichi felt that something had fallen out of his heart. It was unnatural, to say the least, but he felt discomfited alone in the shrine with the brute warriors snoring loudly and the monks leaving them to their devices. He couldn't sit still. He whipped his head around the wooden shrine, feeling his heart rate quicken when he realized that no music had been playing at all, not even the familiar flickering of a candle or the rustling of leaves out in the wind. Everything seemed to still when Yamato left, and this confused the samurai greatly. _I could have sworn I heard music earlier when Yama was here_, he thought in frustration. _Am I going crazy? What's going on with me?_

He did not follow the musician as instinct said, but he did move closer to the entrance of the shrine. Yamato's golden hair made him easily visible, and Taichi held his breath as he watched the boy glide toward one of the large trees of the construct. He didn't dare exhale, for the silly fear that Yamato would see him. The way the slender musician moved was like that of a specter, one of those sad female ghosts that so many superstitious old folk liked to spread stories of in the villages. Yamato looked up at the perfectly full moon with his bright blue eyes, and Taichi wondered what the boy was thinking. He felt his heart thump louder the longer he left his eyes on the boy. _Even when he's not Kiyohime...no. It's not Kiyohime that was beautiful. It's Yama._ The music he thought he had heard before came back to him with the arrival of a gentle breeze, rippling the musician's deep green kimono like that of a once-still river. _His clothes are so worn now...a breeze that light shouldn't be enough to pick up that fabric. We've got to get him something more durable later. In the next town, maybe..._

Entranced by the boy, Taichi's body felt as if it had traveled miles and miles away. In his mind he was submerged in the ocean, deep, deep down where no one could reach him, but there was no need to worry about taking a breath. Right next to him was Yamato Ishida, his faithful, loyal, beautiful retainer, who vowed to stay by his side forever...the thought was alarming, but the samurai didn't care. He had never experienced a dream so pure, not even in the deepest of slumbers. And here he was, awake, simply staring at the musician who had been his traveling companion for only a week. His heart began to ache. Was this foolishness? He fell under Yamato's spell the moment he spun around as Kiyohime when he had crept backstage before the performance of Dojoji, more than half a year ago. They spent a good month or two in each other's company when he found that they both lived in Odaiba, after that bizarre wind had left them with the two ema of friendship and courage. The samurai couldn't understand the feelings that were pulsating through his heart, and he couldn't explain why it seemed so unbearable to simply look up Yamato as he sat alone under that tree. He wanted to be next to him. He wanted Yamato by his side.

His ethereal vision was shattered when a familiar voice called out from the back of his mind. Boyish short hair, the sweet scent of plum blossoms, the girl he had known since childhood who wielded a naginata without fear but was forced to learn her mother's arts...what of Sora? The pleasant paradise under the ocean Taichi shared with Yamato rushed out of his mind, and Taichi was faced with the girl he had been enamored with since he was a boy. She smiled at him, his mind's eye piling memory after memory onto his brain, trying to push out the image of Yamato. _Taichi! Let's go out and practice sometime! Taichi, that's not how you make it...here, let me...Taichi, that was an interesting poem, how nice of you..._ Sora was waiting for him in Kyoto, wasn't she? But he could not muster up an explanation of why the Sora in his mind looked upon the lonesome Yamato sitting under the tree as well.

Taichi raised his hands to his head and rubbed it vigorously in an attempt to wake up and leave this daydream state. He slapped his cheeks a couple of times to pull himself back, and looked up again, breathing heavily. Yamato was still at the tree, looking up at the moon as longingly as he had been just moments ago. _So nothing changed, _the samurai thought. _That was...that was way too intense. I need to get a hold of myself. What am I even thinking? Did I really just see Yama like that...and what about Sora? Jeez, this isn't at all what I should be thinking about right now...we need to get to Kyoto. That's the goal. I can't let myself do this again._

He stood up and brushed the dust off of his kimono, turning his head slightly to look at the blond musician once more. The way the boy was looking up at the moon reminded Taichi of the story of Kaguya, the moon princess. Discovered in a stalk of bamboo, the infant Princess Kaguya was taken home by the elderly bamboo-cutter who had discovered her, and she grew up to be a woman of extraordinary beauty. Though many tried to win her hand, she gave them impossible tasks to fulfill before she would marry anyone, and eventually, her suitors gave up. But her old parents noticed how sad she looked when the full moon visited the skies, and out of parental concern, they asked what was wrong and if there was anything they could do to help. Princess Kaguya, hair shining with what seemed to be moonlight, only cried harder as she looked to her kind foster parents. She said that it was almost time for her to return to the Moon, where she had hailed from originally, and the Moon people would come to retrieve her. The day came and the Moon people took Kaguya as promised, and the elderly couple and their adopted daughter wept together in a sorrowful symphony as the Princess slowly floated away into the night sky. Taichi felt his throat tighten as he recalled the tale, and prayed to the gods that Yamato would not be taken away from him that night.

Taichi fidgeted as he walked away from the entrance of the shrine, unable to sit still now that Yamato was out of his vision. The snores of the Hara men were joined by those of the Kotonomama Hachimanguu monks, and the samurai felt strangely worried that the entire shrine would collapse as a result of the unwelcome harmony of slumbering men. Shaking the idea out of his mind, he concentrated, trying to relocate the music he knew he had heard just moments ago. He whistled the simple melody Yamato taught him to calm his nerves. The tune was lovely and strange, and eventually he heard strings and flutes and more instruments join in as he whistled. _Ah, the imagination is a great thing_, he thought with a triumphant grin as he kept whistling.

But something was amiss. The orchestra in his mind ceased immediately, as if all the musicians had been muffled and cloaked with silence. The samurai's eyes widened as he realized what he had heard was not a figment of his imagination. He stood up in alarm, stumbling in his attempts at swiftness, and sprinted to where Yamato was. What he had heard was Yamato's secret emergency tune. And it was no longer playing.

_Get away from him!_ Taichi thought furiously, his body shaking with adrenaline. Why didn't he just stay where he was? The small complex of the shrine suddenly felt too large, had too many turns, too many candles about; simply too many things for Taichi to avoid. Too many objects standing between him and Yamato. _Whoever the hell you are, I'll take you on - all of you, all of you, I don't care how many, if you hurt him, I'll kill you all...!_

He was hardly out of breath when he reached the tree where he had seen Yamato sitting, and looked at the spot in surprise. Yamato was still there. Why, there was no one around him, and not a scratch at all on his body or anywhere else. He was just asleep. Taichi laughed to himself, feeling more than a little crazy, and carried the peaceful musician back into the shrine. "Why'd you have to scare me like that? Huh?" he whispered as he looked at Yamato's sleeping face lovingly. "You're an idiot, Yama. Damn you."

Taichi knelt on the floor made of bamboo and gently set the boy down. He looked upon the musician, allowing his heart to beat as fast as it had been when the thoughts of the boy filled his mind just minutes before. His mouth was slightly ajar, breathing ragged, his eyebrows crinkling his forehead with wrinkles as he watched over Yamato. He did not know what to do with his feelings. He made a motion to leave the boy, but Yamato grasped onto his hand before he could stand. Again, his heart beat faster, and it possibly skipped too many beats to count; Taichi was surprised that the organ didn't leap from his chest and run away. Here he was, this beautiful boy who knew nothing of the world, fast asleep and holding onto the hand of the samurai in whom he placed all of his trust! Taichi let out a cumbrous breath as he closed his eyes. What on earth was going on with him? Everyone was asleep, he was the only one awake, he should sleep as well. He wanted so much to just kiss this boy's cheek, to touch his face, caress his skin. It felt so natural, like that was all he ever needed to do in this world and he would be allowed to die happily.

The samurai's hands began to shake as he looked around the shrine, making sure that everyone was asleep. The gods of the spirit world seemed to be holding their breaths in anxious excitement as Taichi leaned down, his breath hitting Yamato's porcelain skin. His lips were only inches away from the beautiful boy's sleeping face, and he held the hand that Yamato had wrapped so tightly around his own. "Yama," he whispered longingly as he tenderly moved the musician's face toward him. He ran his rough thumb against Yamato's pink lips; Taichi shivered pleasantly as its smoothness registered through his hands. _Just...I just want you to know...I'll protect you, no matter what,_ Taichi thought, hoping Yamato would hear what his mind had said. He bent down to kiss the boy's soft lips; the cheek was no longer an option now. "I wish I could have you."

A violent wind rushed past, startling the samurai as thoughts of Sora pierced his mind. Luckily, he hadn't been holding Yamato's face, so when Taichi pulled back, the musician's slumber was not disturbed. Cursing to himself, Taichi pulled at his tall brown hair and sat down at a corner of the shrine. The kindred spirits of the shrine shared his disappointment. "I need to get some sleep," he said aloud to no one. "We have places to be." He wondered if these were feelings his heart should not allow, but he was firm with himself: it would be best not to know, or to think about this any longer. He was a warrior, was he not? There was no need to feed these feelings, especially when there was a goal at hand. He ignored the fact that he wouldn't be able to content with the emotions on his own in the first place. Wordlessly, he urged himself to sleep, unaware that the sleeping Yamato was still looking for Taichi's hand.

Taichi's sleep had been a restless one, so he had been the first to wake up the next morning. Even the monks were still sleeping, and they were known to be early risers. _There goes the notion I had as a kid that monks never slept,_ he thought groggily. He stretched and looked around the shrine, hoping to find a source of water to splash his face. Reluctantly he thought of the holy water in the front, but a darkness swept over him and he laughed the idea away. "I was just kidding," he muttered, hoping the spirits wouldn't condemn his blasphemous thought. "Just help me look for a well or something."

As if on cue, the first ray of sunlight pointed toward a spot in the forest. The expression on the samurai's face was one of incredulous delight. "If you're all leading me to what I think you're leading me to...I will never, ever, ever, think of your holy water that way again. You've got my word," he prayed quietly. Tiptoeing over all the people in the shrine, Taichi bounded out after a quick bow toward the forest.

He made his way through the enormous trees with little effort and focused on the sun's first ray as more sunlight poured into the forest. "What do ya know," he said aloud with a grin. It _did_ lead to a spring, and it was well-hidden by the trees. He assumed the monks knew about it and would stop by in due time, so he took the opportunity to fill his canteen, take a drink, and use some of it to wash his face and parts of his body. A rustle in the bushes halted his cleansing, and from behind his hands, he opened his eyes. A flash of red sped past, the same red he had seen before he had fallen prey to sleep before arriving in Odawara. Curiosity more than fear caused him to bring his hands down, and before him was the red-beaked creature, just as he surmised. The creature looked at him, and he at it, when he realized that it had a striking resemblance to the mythical Tengu. Bewildered, Taichi wanted to move toward it, but found that his body would not follow his commands. The Tengu silently pointed back toward the Kotonomama Hachimanguu shrine, and Taichi's head moved on its own - no, more like it was _allowed_ to move - and his eyes widened in fear. He struggled with his armor and made for his katana, turning to thank the Tengu, but it had already disappeared. _No time for that now,_ Taichi thought fervently as he pumped his legs toward the shrine. What he had seen was a gang of heavily armed samurai stalking the shrine that served as a gateway to Sayo no Nakayama, poised for an ambush. And everyone was still asleep, blissfully unaware of the fate that would befall them. _Not if I can help it. Yama's in there. You won't lay a hand on him. None of you will._

Though Taichi was sprinting fast, his agile footsteps fell onto the soft ground inaudibly, allowing him enough cover for his own surprise attack. Were these Loyalists or Rebels at the shrine's doorway? He couldn't be sure, but at this point, there was no use in caring. There were too many in danger. He kept his eyes on the samurai and studied their armor carefully, wondering why they would possibly sacrifice their souls by cutting people down in a holy place. An abrupt memory from Hara surfaced on Taichi's mind. _The Hara men - they're Loyalists...what did I hear them say when we were hiding in the bushes...?_

_"Fool Rebels think they can get the better of us!"_

Cursing to himself, he realized what these men were: they were Rebels, probably allies of the man they had gotten rid of in Hara from who knows how long ago. And they were here to exact revenge on their fallen comrade. How long had they been following, if that were the case? He had long thought that no matter what side a samurai pledged allegiance to, they would still stay away from holy grounds. Apparently, this was not the case. These men were fledgling samurai, probably acting of their own volition. Everything about their attack was wrong. A samurai never launches an ambush in the morning (though this seemed to be the best course of action: they were, after all, in the middle of a thick forest), they never attack in a cluster like that, and their stances denoted that they were all too eager for fresh blood. Were Taichi not a warrior, he would have felt sympathy for cutting down these amateurs, but he was trained to ignore these human worries. At his very core, Taichi was a samurai, and a good one at that, even though he had never seen war. And these men just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Yamato was in that shrine along with their targets, and it was rare for samurai to keep any in the vicinity alive; usually only one was spared to spread the fear and chaos they have created.

As they lifted their legs to charge into the shrine, Taichi stepped out from the bushes. "Good morning, fellas," he called pleasantly. "Shouldn't you perform _temizu_ before you go in there? Spirits won't be all that happy with you if you don't."

They turned, their ash-gray masked faces doing nothing to suppress the shock apparent from their wobbly stances. There was no need for Taichi to charge; he walked toward them calmly, his hand resting atop his sword as if he were taking a stroll through the park. The Rebel samurai shuffled their feet backwards in an attempt to maintain their distance from this stranger. Taichi smiled cheerfully, though inwardly, he was grinning at how cowed he had these fools. He hadn't even done anything! Not yet. One of the lesser samurai let out a battle cry and made for Taichi, katana raised high above his head. With a tutting sound, Taichi shook both his finger and his head as he placed one of his feet back, strengthening his stance. In one fluid motion, he pulled out his own sword and created a delicate arc. The man's arm was lost in the swing, and he knelt where he stood, unable to scream as he looked at the horror his appendage had become.

"A L-Loyalist!" exclaimed one of the cowering samurai, pointing to Taichi. "Y-You've not heard the last of us, fiend! Our numbers are plentiful! We will come back for you! Mark my words!"

"I can't mark 'em if I don't even know who you are," Taichi retorted with a shrug. "Anyway, it's probably a good idea if you step away from that temple. The priests are going to have to purify this place a thousand times over now that blood's been spilled. And before you get any crazy ideas, I'm _not_ a Loyal - "

Rude as they were, the small dispatch of samurai fled before Taichi could finish his utterance. Squinting, he noticed that the Rebels' armor was ashen, just like their masks. It was as if they were covered in the stuff, but once the light hit them at the right angle, Taichi was impressed to see that it was actually a brilliant crimson beneath. _What weird armor,_ he thought. _And not even an insignia to show wh__at clan they belong to. How preposterous!_ The samurai shook his head, puffed up his chest, and allowed himself a moment of pride before strutting into the shrine (but not before purifying himself with a prayer and holy water). Clearing his throat with a cough, the brown-haired boy stepped into the entrance of the shrine with a flourish, tossing his hair dramatically as he asked, "Is everyone all right?"

But everyone in the shrine was still fast asleep, blissfully unaware of what could have happened to them only moments ago. Taichi's grin deflated into a grimace as he dragged himself back to his corner, muttering something or other about how lucky they all were to have him around. He never drifted off to sleep. He wanted to stay cautious, just in case the fools decided to come back, thinking he was asleep. Every warrior was instilled with a certain degree of paranoia, after all. But they never came, and before everyone in the facility woke up, Taichi remembered the Tengu that had alerted him to the danger in the first place. _What on earth happened? Was I just seeing things?_ Though he delighted in hearing the stories his grandfather used to tell about olden Japan and its various spirits roaming the land, he never stopped to think that any of it could be real. The stories kept him on his toes spiritually, and if he happened to pass an area with a shrine or temple, he would almost always stop and pray, even if he couldn't stay long. These thoughts boggled his mind as he sat in his corner, pushing his fingers against his forehead in deep concentration.

Yamato was the first to wake up. Taichi had to reposition himself to look away from the boy's alluring beauty; he couldn't afford to think of how close he had been to those lips the night before. But he succumbed to the fantasy, his ears perking up upon hearing Yamato's groans as he stretched his muscles as one usually does after a long bout of sleep. But thoughts of the musician were not impure in his mind. While thinking of his strange encounter with what he had decided could only be a Tengu, he realized that the creature had helped him save Yamato. There could be nothing wrong with that in the slightest. He silently thanked the Tengu in his prayers, especially after knowing how famous the heavenly beings were for their mischief.

"Good morning, Taichi," said the musician groggily, wiping the sleep from his eyes. "You're up early, aren't you?"

"You don't even know the half of it," replied the samurai. He wanted to tell his companion all about his experience, and he wanted to do so out of earshot of the rest of the company. He took Yamato's hand in his and pulled him outside and began to recount his tale. The graceful boy listened intently, nodding when appropriate, and when Taichi finished, he took on a puzzled look. They were sitting beneath the same tree that the musician had napped under the other night, and their heads felt much clearer in this location.

"What a fascinating story," Yamato remarked after thinking a while. "But...you chopped someone's arm off?"

"The proof isn't too far off from the shrine," muttered Taichi. "That's beside the point, though! A _Tengu_ was there! And it basically told me what was going on!"

"And you were near some sort of spring? That's definitely odd. Are you sure it wasn't just the water or something?"

"Um...well, I don't know. But it can't have happened twice. What are the odds? It was the same red beak thing from before, remember? Way back when we were in the forest, right before Odawara? I mean, it's been a while, but you remember, right?" Taichi desperately wanted to hear that he was not crazy.

"I believe you, Taichi! I do. But both times you were the only one to experience it, so I can't agree for certain, can I?" The musician leaned against the steadfast tree and shaded his eyes from the sunlight, which began to pour in with the arrival of morning. "And last time, we had to go to a priest, and he...extracted some sort of...spirit from you. What if it just came back?"

"That...seems logical," Taichi admitted. "But even if I'm 'sick' again, doesn't this say something? If it happens a third time, I'm going to say that 'something' is definitely going on. And it's absolutely not just a one-time thing."

"I agree. Well, hopefully it won't happen again...how's your memory?" Yamato asked, a serious look in his enchanting blue eyes. "I'm going to ask you again in an hour, and if you can't remember what we were talking about, I'll ask the priest to help you out."

"I think I'm fine. I mean, I'm pretty sure I'm all right. But then again, it didn't happen all that long ago, and I'm pretty sure I haven't been asleep for a week like last time." Taichi buried his hands in his nest of hair and sighed. "You know, between the two of us, we really need to stop getting sick. We'll never reach Kyoto at this rate."

With a kind laugh, Yamato stood up and offered his hand to Taichi. "Let's go. We'll be fine now that we have an entourage. We'll get there in no time."

The boys left the tree and walked the short distance back to the shrine. Taichi breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the gang of samurai still asleep on the floor, snoring as loud as ever. Though they were only gone for a few minutes, he was still afraid that the Rebels would attack once he was out of sight. _Mayb__e our Hara guys weren't their targets at all,_ Taichi pondered. _But why would they even risk __attacking a shrine? Who else would they want dead?_ Taichi didn't like to think about such things for too long, so the ideas were out of his head as soon as he thought them up. After all, there was no way he could know for certain who they were attacking; they were long gone. And he had an arm to prove it. Before Yamato could see the bloody arm on the forest floor, he kicked it into a bush with an innocent whistle.

"Speaking of spirits, did you feel some sort of...presence...in the shrine last night?" asked Yamato.

"Uh...no, not that I know of," Taichi replied. "Why do you ask?"

"I could have sworn I felt someone...or some _thing_...hovering over me while I was asleep," he explained. "It wasn't eerie at all, though. It was actually kind of nice. It was a warm sort of feeling...yes, I think that's the word. I felt safe."

It took a moment to realize that Yamato was actually talking about _him_. Startled, Taichi laughed unnaturally loudly, pointing his red face away from the musician. "Ha! Ha! Oh...yeah! No, no, I didn't feel a thing, or see anything, or climb over anything, nope, nothing like that! I would've known! Yeah, absolutely...hah...anyway, I'm just glad you're okay. Maybe you were dreaming is all. Yep! That's all it could have been!"

Before long, the monks woke up from their slumber and wordlessly began their chores for the day. Yamato asked if he could help prepare breakfast. The holy men seemed to be capable of smiling only at the beautiful boy, and had enough glares to spare for the rest of the ragtag gang. With a disarming smile, Yamato bowed several times and said a few words of apology. Somehow, that was all he needed to convince them to let him cook. Taichi was quite excited for another taste of Yamato's cooking; it had been far too long since he ate even the simplest of rice balls. It was as if the musician took the culinary arts as seriously as his koto: he performed his breathing ritual for a minute or two before grabbing Taichi's short sword and leaving the shrine. The samurai feared that his friend would use it to hack away at some foliage, but the forest surrounding Kotonomama Hachimanguu was still the whole time until Yamato returned with an armful of bamboo shoots and a fistful of herbs. Taichi was sure that if he had been the one to extract these goods from the forest, he would warrant the wrath of the monks and all their angry prayers, but since it was the blond boy, it felt as if they couldn't be happier. People were fickle creatures.

With his skillful hands he transformed the raw materials. No one complained about Yamato borrowing these plants from the forest (that's the word the monks used, rather than "stole") once they had a taste of the lovely bamboo stew he concocted. The Hara samurai wolfed down their portions quickly. Though they seemed the type used to eating more than one helping of food, the burly men were sated with one bowl. Yamato smiled mysteriously as he dutifully took the dirty dishes to the back of the shrine. "That should give you all enough energy to get us to Kyoto," he reminded them with a smile. They were strangely eager to take Taichi and Yamato up the mountain after having such a delicious meal.

As Taichi gathered up the few belongings he and Yamato shared, the musician knelt down next to him. "Taichi, what did you say this shrine was called again?"

"It's a long name. Kotonomama Hachimanguu Jinja," replied Taichi dutifully. He had been here many times before and knew the passageway well, and enjoyed reciting the name whenever possible. "Why?"

"Oh, no real reason. I just knew it sounded familiar. Sei Shonagon wrote of this place many times in her books," explained Yamato, the artist within him glowing. "It is said that this is a place that will grant wishes. Isn't that silly?"

Silent for time, Taichi processed the last bit of information carefully, looking at the back of Yamato's head with a longing glance. But he shook the thought from his head and forced himself to laugh. "Yeah," he agreed reluctantly. "Silly."

The two boys thanked the monks who had allowed them to stay at the shrine after the rowdy bunch of warriors ambled out to the front with the palanquin without so much as a glance at the place. The monks were not people to feel disdain for people, so rather than sigh at the disregard shown to them, they went back to their chores and their prayers and hoped Taichi and Yamato would arrive at Kyoto safely. With the warmth of Yamato's stew keeping their bellies full and happy, the Hara boys launched themselves through the mountain, Yamato clinging onto Taichi for dear life as they traveled up top.

The samurai held Yamato as close as he could without cause for alarm as they sped past each port town, smiling down at the boy gently. His Kiyohime did not seem to notice, and with this lovely creature in his arms, Taichi could put the strange Tengu meeting out of his mind. If he had to think of the odd situations he had been in, he knew exactly what place was best at answering questions of the occult nature. Kyoto was close at hand, and yet all Taichi could think about was the wish he had made on the shrine floor at Kotonomama Hachimanguu.

_"I wish I could have you, Yama."_

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><p><strong>Notes:<strong>

1. Digimon enemies' names, made to sound Japanese: Dabumon = Devimon; Doukeshi = Clown = Piedmon; Kyuuketarou = Kyuuketsu = Blood-sucking = Bat = Myotismon; Etekou = monkey/personification of a monkey = Etemon. Clever, eh?  
>2. These samurai are ridiculously fast. Possibly even superhumanly fast. Traveling from Hara to Nissaka is a good 52 mile walk, and they were carrying both Taichi and Yamato on their backs. The area is regarded to be one of the most difficult spots to get through on the Tokaido.<br>3. The story of Princess Kaguya varies, and Taichi's version is condensed. In some retellings, Kaguya was actually banished to earth for a crime, but the one that is ordinarily told does not have that plot twist.  
>4. A reference to "If I Told You" from the Wedding Singer musical! Major props if anyone gets that.<br>5. Sei Shonagon is one of the prominent female novelists of her time, rivaled by the greater-known Murasaki Shikibu. Her "Pillow Book" is the equivalent to reading a Heian version of People magazine.  
>6. Kotonomama Hachimanguu is apparently noted for being a shrine where your every wish will be granted. It is located in Nissaka in the Shizuoka prefecture of Japan.<p> 


	8. Chapter 8: Soot and Chestnut

**Ukiyo ~ Floating World  
>Chapter 8: Soot and Chestnut<strong>

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Digimon or any of its respective characters and such. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction devoted to the absolute perfection of my OTP.  
><strong>Author's Note:<strong> So it seems that I've been writing mainly to acquaint myself with the beautiful Tokaido road, but I think that'll be the end of that...for the time being. Kyoto is where I lived before and I'd like to focus on that, so be prepared for some setting changes! Also, sorry for taking so long with this chapter. Things have been hectic, but it's not abandoned yet! Thank you for all the support!

* * *

><p>A person should do well to practice gratitude for the little things in life. Not everyone had to endure the usual week-long traverse through the Tokaido road, and for this, many villagers are thankful. In the earlier days when Japan was still content with its solitude, the grand road meant a time for travel and trade; for their land, though beautiful, did not always yield everything they needed. The people of Japan had been content with such ideas for ages, and although rule under the feudal lords could sometimes be brutal, it kept the land at peace. But times had become different with such swiftness that it knocked many off their feet. Once upon a time there had only been one way of thinking. Though such a life is sweet and kind, it is also one of ignorance. Now that foreigners had kicked their feet upon their once-sacred ground, many people found themselves confused. To think: there were other lands out there, with people who were as similar as snowflakes! Together they were all people, but with closer inspection, the differences were plentiful. What could the people of Japan do now?<p>

The samurai were at the top of the pyramid, blessed with power for what seemed to be forever. They were in no way gods; citizens knew well that their emperor and his family were the only ones who held the blood of the creators in their veins. But the samurai were the ones who maintained the people of the land. With resolve as sharp and strong as the steel of their katana, they were the very lifeblood of tradition. Not only did people fear them; they were respected. Without them, people would quarrel amongst themselves, and the land would be too divided to fix. It was reasonable for the people to find confusion and unrest when the foreigners arrived. They thought that the samurai would be there to help them, as hapless as they could be. But this was not so.

Those who sit above the rest are capable of arguing the way children do over an uneven distribution of sweets. There will always be a conflict over who gets what. But since the black sails were seen, a more jagged, defined separation had been made. The more strategic and open-minded of the bunch decided that it would be best to befriend the foreigners in order to learn all they can from the New World. It would aid in military prowess, surely, but these samurai believed Japan to be a proud country that refused to be kept in the dark. Japan is a land built on tradition, but surely, one can bend to other ideas! Alas, these samurai were called Rebels and were heralded as traitors. Those who wanted to keep Japan as it was were seen as Loyalists, fiercely determined to keep power with the emperor, and hopefully, the samurai themselves. These Loyalists began searching out Rebels to slay them and keep them quiet. In the same manner, Rebels assassinated those who opposed them. Blood was spilled haphazardly. The difference between man and child is that eventually, a child will stop pouting long enough to nap and see bygones as bygones. Man, on the other hand, are determined to fight until they have won. On many cases, they resemble babies more than children, crying until they are served only to ask for more.

Yamato Ishida lay horizontal on the palanquin, surprised at how much space he had to himself when Taichi decided to hop off and help the Hara samurai with the lifting. The group had been traveling for about three days now, and the sun was beginning to rise for the third day since Nissaka. When Taichi was still lying with him up top, the samurai told Yamato all the basic details of the Rebels and the Loyalists. The more he thought about them, the more he had to wonder why they were being kept safe. His breathing felt ragged and empty, even though they had all stopped at Maisaka to freshen up in the sea and gather sea creatures for food. The musician had prepared a feast of fish and clams for dinner that night, and made more than enough and pickled them all to last the boys through the week, thanks to his culinary prowess. Usually, cooking would ease Yamato's mind, but felt queasy wielding the knife when he knew that people were being killed in the meantime. His greatest problem was thinking too much.

The motley crew made their way quickly to Goyu, but a red-faced Yamato pushed them further along. "Wos wrong with this place?" asked Kyuuketarou. "We stop 'ere all the time!"

"I can imagine why," Yamato muttered. Taichi looked at him with a heartbreakingly inquisitive face. "You...you've never stopped here, have you, Taichi?"

"Nope. Usually I just keep trekking until I get to Kyoto. I make better time that way!" he said with a bright smile.

Dabumon cast a longing glance toward Goyu, as did his brother, but they continued on anyway. Etekou, however, had a grin about him as he heaved the palanquin. Yamato did not take notice, for he was too relieved to know that they had passed the post town. He knew the kind of women that traipsed around the place. On his last journey, he and Kengyo made the mistake of staying there a moment too long as the sun set. Lewd women with their obi tied in the front crawled out from their teahouses and inns, imploring the men to keep them company with their siren calls. Luckily, Yamato was siren enough himself to get he and his master out of the area (much to Kengyo's dismay). They kept traveling far into the night until they reached Okazaki to obtain a horse and carriage, and that was that. Yamato could see the raucous Hara men enjoying their time at Goyu, but he felt a pang of anger in his heart at the thought of one of the beautiful women pawing at Taichi's hair. _No, no, Taichi would never go for a girl like that_, Yamato reassured himself. _He's an idiot, but he's no cad. There's nothing to worry about. Yes, I am simply worrying about my friend, that is all. Absolutely. I'm sure I'd worry about the Hara folk if I knew them better. _But Yamato knew that it wasn't just anger. It was jealousy. He chose to ignore his feelings and looked up at the sky.

Night was falling quickly, and the group was forced to stop at Akasaka, one post after Goyu after two hours of running. Etekou made it a point to complain the loudest of how tired he was after lugging Yamato and Taichi around for days. Taichi, being the good-natured samurai he was, agreed that it was time to rest and wholeheartedly agreed to stop for the night. For a bunch of tired men, the Hara warriors looked increasingly pleased with themselves as they bumbled toward a plain but clean-looking inn at the end of the block.

The men were greeted by two women dressed in solid blue kimonos holding empty trays. They bowed deeply, their ordinary faces painted in a way that some might find pretty for the extensive amount of makeup they used. The men from Hara, hounds as they were, regarded the women with a lusty glance. Yamato scowled, shaking his head at their behaviour. He looked at the innkeepers with an apologetic smile, but they did not notice for their deep bows. When they finally rose, the black-haired girl on the left spoke, her voice high and light. "Welcome to Akasaka's finest inn," she said politely. "How many rooms shall I reserve for you?"

"Just you two for the night, sweets?" asked Etekou.

"As always, master," replied the girl on the right. Her voice was mellow, not high nor low, and hardly memorable. The makeup on her face made her small eyes look much larger than they actually were, and the dramatic pencil on her eyebrows gave the impression that she everything surprised her. But Yamato was beginning to feel suspicious at how familiar the woman was with Etekou.

"We'll take, uh...mebbe three rooms. Aye, that oughta do it," said Dabumon as he licked his hand to slick his hair back. "One for me 'n' Doukeshi, another for Etekou 'n' Kyuuketsu, and the last one for these boys." He flicked his tongue at Yamato and Taichi. The women bowed again and beckoned them into the waiting room.

Though his eyes were still bright, Taichi was beginning to show signs of wear. The proud samurai would never say that he was tired, but when a time of reprise came about, he appreciated it fully. He bowed to the innkeepers and beckoned Yamato to follow him into the room on the far right as the women followed the rowdy men into their separate rooms. With a sleepy smile he waved to his blond companion as he pulled out a futon from the closet. "We're almost there, Yama!" he said, quickly throwing off his clothes and stretching onto the mat. "Just a few more days and we'll be in Kyoto. Are you excited?"

"Of course," Yamato replied with a smile. "I'll bet you are, right? You'll see your family again soon. Have you ever been away from them this long before?"

Rolling around on the futon, Taichi scratched his nose thoughtfully. "Y'know, I don't think I have! Weird, isn't it? A boy at my age would usually be out on his own, but since there's no war, I get to stay with my family. Well, come to think of it, a lot of kids are like that now..." With a great yawn, he dozed off for a few moments, leaving Yamato to chortle to himself. As quickly as he fell asleep, he jerked back awake, realizing something. "I'm pretty gross...let's go take a bath."

Yamato looked out the window. "You sure the bath is still open at this time of night?"

"Hey, it's an inn, right? We should be in and out of the bath in less than half an hour. They can only close it when everyone's asleep, right? Let's go!" Taichi's crooked grin assured the boy, and without a moment to lose, he grabbed the musician by the hand and pulled him down the steep wooden steps to the bathing room.

The bath house was small, and the deep brown, smooth wood was also used here. Taichi and Yamato undressed in the cramped compartment before the actual bath room. Already stripped to his underwear, Taichi's processing was much quicker, but he waited before getting into the hot water past the second door frame. He pretended to fold some of the towels in his nakedness as he watched Yamato undress. The musician's cream-colored skin was perfect, and Taichi could not take his eyes off the boy when the dark green kimono slipped off of his slender body along with the navy wide-legged trousers. _I shouldn't be doing this. Why does this feel so...so wrong?_ Taichi thought, feeling his cheeks burn. _It's not like Yama's a girl. Guys do this all the time. I mean, we change in the same place all the time, right? But I've always given Yama his privacy...but now that we're this close, I can't stop looking at him - why does a guy have to look so damn pretty? Oh, no, no, he's taking off his underwear now..._

Yamato's body was impressive, to say the least. Even though they both must have been grimy from days of travel, the musician's body did not show any signs of it. Though he wasn't a man who cared much for his muscle, his body was slim and smooth, generally healthy. One could imagine it feeling as luxurious as silk, and Taichi had to control his breathing as he gazed at his friend, unable to sort out his feelings. He tried hard to put the thought of Yamato's soft lips out of his mind. When he could not stand it any longer, he darted into the large wooden basin past the door frame and hoped that the hot water would calm his erection before Yamato saw it. _This is embarrassing. How is this happening? Well, wait. Wait, wait, wait. It's not like - it's not like Yama's the one who caused this. Right. Yeah. Happens all the time, randomly, just like this. If he sees it, whatever. _The blush on his face could thankfully be blamed on the bath.

Bath time in Japan is known to be a time of rest and relaxation, and in these days, it was not uncommon for men to bathe together. There is no shame in exposing one's body when it is a time of cleansing, and as such there was no shame to be had for the boys. But Taichi could not help but feel guilty knowing that he was naked with Yamato in such close quarters. It was silly, of course, but he did not feel this way because he was shy about his body; his heart beat wildly when the musician was nearby, and the affection he felt was uncontrollable and impossible to explain. To be short, he did not want to look upon someone he felt so strongly for, because in every sense it felt utterly impure. Yamato was only an arm's length away from him, and Taichi knew that there was little stopping him from wading the short distance and confessing his feelings. He only knew passion and the world of the physical, and this is what held him back. There was no need to force himself onto this innocent boy. On top of that, there was a shower of humiliation to be had if Yamato didn't feel the same. To snap out of his stupor, Taichi feebly thought about Sora again, but somehow it didn't seem to help. Yamato was just so near, the strangely sweet scent of his hair filling the room thanks to the steam! It was too much to bear. Taichi turned from the beautiful boy and let his arms hang off of the wooden basin, willing the hardness of his member away with thoughts of kittens playing with a fresh string of yarn.

"This was definitely a good idea," breathed Yamato, sinking into the water up to his chin. "The bath salts here are of surprisingly good quality. How are you faring, Taichi?"

"Mmmhphm," replied the samurai, half his face already submerged in the bath. He opened his eyes and glanced at his partner, feeling the urgency of childhood take over. With a wicked grin, he moved slowly toward the blonde boy as his cupped hands gathered water. With a loud _ha!_ he splashed Yamato, laughing all the while.

Yamato opened his eyes in alarm when his peace was disturbed, and instinctively he returned the favor with his own bout of splashing. His blue eyes glared at Taichi, annoyed. "That's hardly appropriate!" he scolded with another splash.

Now red from laughing, Taichi wiped his face and bent over, continuing their water war. "Inappropriate, eh? Why d'you have to scold me with my own fire?" Taichi grinned, movement slowed in the tub as he paddled toward Yamato. "You're hardly appropriate yourself, musician!"

"O-Oy! You don't have to get so close...!" spurted Yamato as he started backing up. Unfortunately, in a rounded tub, one can hardly call their escape fruitful. In a panic to prevent his hair from getting wet, he stood up quickly, exposing himself to the samurai.

The brown-haired boy felt his mouth drop, impressed and amused by the slender boy's nether regions. Tutting, he stood up himself. "If that's the game you want to play, then," Taichi crossed his arms as he spoke, spreading his legs apart appropriately to extend himself in all his glory. "I accept your challenge."

Taichi failed to notice Yamato's red face turned away from him in time. "Bath's gotten you a bit excited, eh?" muttered Yamato, causing Taichi to finally look down. "Let's just say you've 'won' this round, Taichi."

Before Taichi could sink back down to minimize the amount of shame, one of the innkeepers from earlier announced her arrival. Squinting through the steam, they could see that she was barely dressed. Her blue kimono was tied messily in the front, her chest almost completely bared. Yamato's eyes widened. "Yoo-hoo, boys!" the high-pitched girl said with a squeak. "Sorry to keep you waiting. The gentlemen in the other room were quite...energetic! I see you are, too, sir!" She giggled as she pointed playfully at Taichi.

Quickly Taichi plunged himself back into the hot water, cursing to himself as he reintroduced his body to the sudden heat. "What the hell is going on?" he demanded in a gurgle.

With a sigh, Yamato shook his head and cleared his throat. He looked upon the serving girl, her makeup mussed up and obi dangerously coming close to coming undone. "Miss, I apologize. I'm afraid we're not here for such business. I apologize for making you coming all the way to our bathing room, but truthfully, we're just about finished here. Would you kindly leave our meals in our room? It would be most appreciated," he said in a smooth, even tone. The poor girl now looked mortified, gathering her kimono together and bowing hastily. Not only had she been used as a toy just moments before; now she was being sent away by the most beautiful boy she had ever met! To be a female innkeeper in Akasaka was to be the object of ridicule, no matter how kindly guests treated you. Holding back a sob, she made a final bow and stepped out.

"That poor girl," murmured Yamato.

"Wh...what just happened?" Taichi asked, splashing water onto his face as he continued to stare at the doorway with disbelief. "Why the hell did she...that was just...sh-she was basically..._n-nekkid_!" He made sure the last word of his sentence was injected with his confusion, reverting back to his Kyoto accent.

Yamato stepped out of the enormous bathtub and began to dry himself before gingerly replacing his robes. "She's a working girl," he explained softly. "It's her job."

"Yes, Yama, I see that she works at this inn! But that doesn't give her any reason to barge in on us, _nekkid_, in the bath, while we're _also nekkid_!" he replied frantically. His resolve had since softened in the water.

"Taichi. Do you really not know what that means?" Brusquely, he quickly tied his sash and turned away from the samurai. "She's a prostitute. She's here to sell her body. I didn't understand why we stopped here at first, but it seems our shady escorts certainly knew a thing or two about Akasaka's reputation. Master Kengyo and I bypassed this town on the way to Kyoto, but we did stop at Goyu. I didn't expect Akasaka to possess a...residual effect from the other town."

"You...you...so you know...you know she's a prostitute," Taichi managed, still in the bath, hands covering his face as he tried to piece things together. "So does that mean you...have, um...experience...with them?"

"No!" Yamato replied harshly. "You should know better than the Hara men: _I'm_ a man of the Floating World. I'm a musician. An entertainer. That poor woman was also an entertainer, but...just not the same sort. All of us who float here know at least a little bit about each other, since all our stories tend to be somewhat similar."

Now clearly upset, Taichi's selective hearing kicked in. By 'entertainer', his brain deduced that Yamato must have been dropping a hint of some sort; he felt his skin bristle as he began to believe his own thoughts, which conjured up the idea that the musician was using a double entendre to describe his situation. All artists did that, didn't they? They were so clever, using one word to mean a world of other possibilities! No, Taichi understood this time, didn't he? Convinced of his answer, Taichi suddenly stood in the bath, his dark brown eyes wide with fury. "You're the same as her, aren't you?"

"What on earth are you saying, Taichi?" Yamato hissed, turning on his heel. The samurai was angry, but Yamato's blue eyes shone fiercely, ready to fight back. "You had better stop and think before you say anything else."

"Who touched you, then?" Taichi demanded as he stepped out, walking toward Yamato feverishly. "Why would you let anyone, anyone, do something so horrible?"

Teeth bared, Yamato stepped up to Taichi. "I. Am. Not. A prostitute." he growled. "Stop talking as if you know what that girl is even going through. And don't make this about me!"

"Are you sure, Yama? How can I be sure?" Taichi snapped, now in front of the blond. His dark skin was still wet from the bath, and he was dripping all over the floor as he continued to neglect his kimono. The thought of Yamato in bed with someone, anyone, a man, or woman, or both - it was driving him mad. "You're the guy everyone wants, you know? And now you're talking like you know this girl, like you know this lifestyle! Is this really why you wanted to leave Odaiba?" His voice was now rough, raspy from the steam and his own blindness train of thought.

"Listen to yourself!" Yamato pushed Taichi into the wall. He desperately wanted to give him a good smack over the face. "Listen to yourself, you fool! I have told you my story. I have told you everything about me. I will not stand to be insulted by you. And to say it so loudly where there are people who are actually in that position - shame on you! These women may not have any choice but to do the work they do! Get off your samurai high horse and open your eyes!"

Still blind with rage, Taichi pushed Yamato back without thinking. Before long the two of them were rolling on the ground, trading blow after blow. The samurai was on the verge of delivering a hit to Yamato's face, but stopped when he looked down to see that the musician was crying. Immediately, he snapped back to reality and stood up, breathing hard as he realized what he had gotten himself into. _What the hell was I thinking?_ Taichi thought fantically, Yamato still lying on the ground, trying to regain his breath. _Why would I even think something like that about Yama? He's right. I don't know a damned thing about the Floating World. I just let my instincts get the better of me. I made myself believe that everyone in the Floating World was the same._

Yamato was sobbing quietly on the ground. After steeling himself, a guilty Taichi went over to Yamato, expecting the silent treatment. He wanted to apologize, but he had a feeling that it would fall on deaf ears. He spoke anyway. "I'm a fool," he muttered, fighting back his own tears. "I don't even know why I said all of those things. I don't know why I couldn't just think things through. You're right. I don't know a thing about your world. It isn't fair of me to assume things about the Floating World, the same way you wouldn't assume things about samurai or merchants. I'm a damned fool."

"We need to get out of this place soon," was all Yamato said. The tears on his splendid face were now masked with sweat that had formed from the heat of the sauna-like quality of the bath house. Taichi offered a hand, but Yamato ignored it, choosing to get up on his own. He dusted off the back of his kimono and walked toward the room without a word. Taichi had only just realized his nakedness, but was in no hurry to pull on a kimono of his own as he was left in the bath house to reflect. After he organized his thoughts, he left the bath house, catching a glimpse of the embarrassed serving girl who had walked in on them earlier. She seemed to be leaving from one of the Hara men's quarters, and her kimono was even more disheveled from before. As he saw her make her way toward the kitchen, he felt a pang of sympathy for the innkeeper. She could not have been older than fifteen, and yet here she was, serving everything from food to her body to any and all of the lecherous men that passed through Akasaka. Taichi turned toward a wall and banged his head onto his fist, wondering how he couldn't have known about these things. His father certainly never engaged in such behaviour, and so Taichi was never introduced to the Floating World. He realized then that Yamato was his only real connection to that other world, one that was even more foreign than the lands outside of Japan.

Taichi let ten minutes pass before he decided he was brave enough to enter the room. Yamato's back was toward him, two empty bowls neatly placed on the table's left side. He knelt down in front of the musician, whose eyes were shut. He saw that his place at the table had already been set before him, with two bowls of rice and a bowl of soup in front of a serving plate of freshly cooked vegetables and broiled fish. He noted that the serving girl from earlier must have brought it to the room as per Yamato's request and served Yamato in his absence. "I'll be sure to thank the girl later," Taichi murmured as he gave thanks for the meal. It was a feeble attempt to rid the room of its uncomfortable silence.

Just as he was about to shovel rice into his mouth, Yamato spoke. "What are you thinking of, Taichi?"

With an audible gulp, Taichi forced himself to meet Yamato's unwavering blue eyes. They were still cold, and his eyebrows were turned downward as the boy waited for his answer. "I'm...I'm thinking of how stupid I am. But I...I tried to put myself in your position. In that girl's position. And it was hard. I just couldn't do it," he said finally. "I'm from a line of warriors. I feel stupid. Real stupid. For letting myself fly off the handle like that...trying to talk like I had something to back it up. And I saw the girl from earlier. She looked worse for wear. I felt...pissed. So pissed, like I wanted to do something about it, but what could I do?" He dropped his chopsticks and buried his face in his hands. "What could I even do to help? I don't understand a thing, and I've been all over Japan - and somehow I'd been ignorant of everything the entire time."

Yamato's face softened as he bent down to pick up Taichi's eating utensils. "You are a fool," he agreed, though his voice was now gentle. His eyes still held an air of seriousness as he set the chopsticks back onto the table. "But you saw it in her eyes, didn't you? If not in her eyes, in the way she walked. And if not in the way she walked, in the way she spoke. You see it now. There's no way she could hide the awful work she has to deal with every day. If I were in the same position..."

"...You wouldn't be able to hide it, would you?" Taichi asked, feeling like a child who had just learned his lesson after a scolding. "I'm so sorry, Yama. I didn't know. I still don't know. Somehow I thought I knew everything about the world, but I guess I still have more to learn. Maybe that's why we're on this road together," he added as an afterthought. "We have a lot to learn about each other."

"How long has it been since we've left Nissaka?" Yamato asked, sidling next to Taichi and fussing over his food. The samurai took the change of subject with alarm, but since Yamato allowed himself to be close to him again, he assumed that he had been forgiven for the time being.

"It's been about two days. There's Fujikawa to go through, the old town. We've got a bridge to cross at Okazaki, and then we'll be in Chiryuu. Shouldn't take more than ten hours to get there with our men."

"Can we get horses at either of these places?"

"Er, sure. Okazaki's got some, but...it's not the safest place." Taichi bowed his head to Yamato for serving his food and gave thanks once again before tucking in. "Chiryuu's our best bet. It's popular for its horse market. Why do you ask?"

"I think it's about time we let 'our men' head back to Hara," said Yamato in a quiet voice. "I'm not sure that spending any more time with them is a good idea."

Taichi nodded in agreement. One of the bowls of rice were already empty, and he was starting on the second. "We should be able to get some horses without a problem, but it is the middle of summer. The best have already been chosen, I'm sure, but any horse will get us to Kyoto faster than walking. I wouldn't be able to say if the horses would be faster then the Hara boys, but they must be more polite, right?" he chuckled to himself. "I didn't think we'd have so much trouble getting to Kyoto, but we'll be there soon. I know I keep saying it, but we're almost there. We're at the 37th station out of 53! More than halfway there! Not bad, considering what we've had to deal with."

"Thugs?"

"Magical creatures?"

"Mysterious disappearing shrines?"

"Unruly actor-hosts?"

"And burly men that are afraid of their grandmother. Not to mention big hair," Yamato added with a grin. "Well, hurry up and eat, then, before you say something else that I'll consider stupid. Before we leave, we're leaving a large tip for these women."

"I want to leave them enough so they can start a new life."

"Taichi, that's very kind of you. But we can't," Yamato said firmly. "Leave a large tip, but not our entire budget. It's best to help those we can with what we have, but you can't get to everyone, can you? There are hundreds of women in the business. I sympathize with them, but I admit they make much more than I ever could in a year. Master Kengyo always said that once you're a part of the Floating World, that's where you're meant to stay - and it's up to you to turn it into a blessing or a curse. For every woman who feels shame for her work, there is another who boasts of her power over men. All we can do is acknowledge them and let them do what they want. Otherwise, our money would be forcing them to live another way, just as the men who buy them for their bodies."

"Didn't know you were a preacher, too," Taichi smiled. "I'll let you handle it, though. Whenever I'm next to you I just get flustered. Stupid-er."

"That's not a word."

"Exactly my point." Yamato stood as Taichi finished his meal and began to clean. He set the soiled dishes outside, wiped his hands with a clean linen, and pulled the futon out of the oshiire. "By the way, did you mean what you said in the bath?"

"I-I didn't mean anything! I said I was sorry!" Taichi said, nearly shouting in alarm. He felt his face growing hot as he recalled his insults.

"No, not that," a smile played upon the musician's lips. "You said that I was 'the guy that everyone wants'. Did you mean that?"

Taichi's face reddened, and he now resembled a Tengu's nose in color. He looked down and shuffled in his seat as Yamato rolled out the mattresses. "W-Well, yeah," he stuttered, fumbling for words. "You're - you don't notice? Or are you just being a pain?"

"A little bit of both," Yamato replied airily, a gentle laugh bubbling in his throat. "So you meant it!"

"You're beautiful," Taichi stammered before he could shut his mouth. Immediately after the fact, he bit his lip and tried to find points of interest in the barren walls of the room.

Yamato stopped his futon arrangements and looked up at Taichi, surprised. "Forward, aren't you? I suppose that's how samurai are," he said softly. "Let's get some sleep. We've got a long day ahead of us."

* * *

><p>That night, Taichi dreamt of his family. He was in a densely forested area that seemed to be in a perpetual state of autumn. Leaves crinkled under his feet as he tried to look for people he knew, but the mountain was devoid of people until he heard Hikari calling out to him. She seemed to have been calling for a long time, and shook her head in mock disappointment when he finally turned toward her. "Hikari? What are you doing here?" he asked, puzzled. "Where are we?"<p>

"We're waiting for you at home, Tai!" she replied brightly, ignoring his question. "Hurry back."

"Hikari? Hikari! Wait! Don't go!" Taichi pumped his legs with as much energy as he could muster, but his body would not move forward. She was still smiling as she turned her back toward him, walking into a small hut where a blond boy about her age waited for her. The boy turned around, and Taichi stopped his futile running in surprise. The boy looked just like Yamato. Behind the children was a woman with light brown hair and kind eyes that resembled the boy's. She bowed to Taichi as she closed the door, and Taichi awoke with a start.

It was already light out when Taichi opened his eyes, sweat running down his forehead. Yamato was kneeling by his side, wiping him down with a cloth dipped in cool water. "Yama," he breathed. "Am I awake?"

"Looks like it. Are you all right? You were kicking in your sleep," Yamato replied. "It hurt, by the way. You somehow made your way to my futon with your constant tossing and turning. I had to hold you down to keep you from tearing the place apart."

The samurai grinned despite himself at the thought of sleeping with Yamato, but quickly shook his head as he remembered his dream. "I had a dream about my sister. She's waiting for me at home. That means they don't think I'm dead, which, y'know, is a nice thing."

"You talk as if it weren't just a dream."

"It...I don't know, it just seemed so real. Like she was contacting me from another place. There was a boy with her, too. He looked a lot like you. And a lady with light brown hair..."

Yamato narrowed his eyes at Taichi and slowly put the cloth down. "Do you remember anything else about the boy and the lady?" he asked quietly. "Or where they were?"

"Um, the boy had short, blonde hair. Big blue eyes, like yours. The lady, her hair was really light brown. Almost blond. Her face resembled yours, and the blue eyes, too. Her hair was short, as if she took the tonsure and let it grow out." Taichi scratched his head. He should have known that Yamato would take the dream seriously now that his family seemed to be a part of it. But he didn't mind. He was just glad that he could talk to someone about it. "They're both really nice looking people."

"They do sound like my mother and my brother," Yamato said to himself, absently picking up the cloth and wiping Taichi down again. "What a strange dream. I really do hope it's true. Maybe they're all together."

"It would be pretty convenient. I don't know the place, though. The leaves were already crunchy, and there was a small hut, and it seemed to be on a hill. I don't think I know it," said the samurai apologetically, though he had no reason to be. There was something about the hope in Yamato's voice that made Taichi desperate to reunite the youth with his family. How lovely it would be if they were all in Kyoto! Taichi would go back to his family, and Yamato with his, and then...and then what? Taichi felt himself grimace and decided against thinking of what would happen then. He didn't want to be separated from the boy.

After making sure Taichi was well, Yamato helped him up and the boys dressed themselves for the day. Breakfast was being served in the main hall of the traditional inn. The two innkeepers looked tired, as if they hadn't slept all night, and the Hara men were not at the table. It seemed that the people in their entourage made up the guest list for the day, for the table was only set for six. Yamato bowed to the women, who politely bowed back and deferred themselves, ready to become scarce. Before they could, the soft-spoken musician coaxed them into coming out and having breakfast with them. Though they protested, it was difficult to argue when Yamato's smile was so bright, and his voice so sweet. "Please, think of it as an apology for last night. I know it must be strange, eating the food you cooked with your own delicate hands, but I can't bear the thought of you two eating alone," he said gently. They blushed and giggled, finally giving in to Yamato's charm. Taichi stuffed his mouth with food before he could make a hasty retort against the women; he still didn't like watching the musician flaunt himself, especially when he was trying to keep his feelings in check.

The four of them ate together, Yamato providing the bulk of the pleasantries. Taichi was afraid that the others would join at any moment; he was certain that the buffoons would be far from gracious if they saw the serving women eating with them at the table. Brutish as they were, they were still samurai. Worse yet, they were the type of samurai who expected everyone to fold whenever they passed through. But Yamato was a master of impeccable timing. His knowledge of the Floating World allowed him to assess how the men 'played' the night before and how the women displayed their hospitality, and he knew that the Hara folk would not be waking up for another hour or so. The women were in high spirits thanks to Yamato's kindness, and he left the room after his meal to bring out his koto. Taichi nervously eyed them as he ate his second meal, his crooked grin giving off a charm of its own. He was unsure of what to talk about, but luckily Yamato was quick and distracted them all with a beautiful song about foolish men who dishevel the beautiful hair of women. They were able to finish eating, chat, enjoy Yamato's performance, and clear the table all before the Hara men finally awoke. They did not even bother to head to the main room to eat, as they seemed to be fighting off hangovers from the night before.

The rowdy bunch began quarreling amongst themselves outside of the inn. They left their payment in their respective rooms the night before and did not bother to thank the innkeepers. Annoyed, Taichi was tempted to spit in their food before they ate, but instead he gathered the coins from their rooms and handed it to the women personally. He felt the need to apologize, but heeding Yamato's words about the beings of the Floating World and their strange rules, he decided it was best to simply thank them. "We appreciate everything you've done for us. Thank you for working so hard," he said to them, feeling awkward about the words. The innkeepers smiled and bowed deeply, assuring that they knew he meant well.

"You are a kind man, and so is your friend," said the low-voiced one. That morning her makeup was done as usual, but she no longer seemed a plain woman. She took Taichi's thanks and glowed. "We both wish you luck on your journey. May Kwannon keep you safe."

When Yamato stepped out, the ladies bowed to him with a sense of familiarity and camaraderie. Taichi bristled when the high pitched girl kissed Yamato on the lips, but he stayed put. "We should get a move on," he said too loudly before the girl could get her tongue into Yamato's mouth. "Thank you again, ladies." With that, he marched over to Yamato and pulled him over possessively, tossing him onto the palanquin moments before the low-voiced girl could bestow her own form of thanks to the musician.

"Sleep well?" Taichi inquired to Etekou with raised eyebrows. Yamato shot him a warning look from the palanquin, but Taichi paid no mind to it.

"You bet, boss," said the man with a toothy grin. "One of the best stops this whole damn time!" Taichi swore that he saw fangs on the monkey of a man, but he made no remark. The other men yelped in agreement, licking their lips and making satisfied grunts about their stay. Instead of cutting them down, he smiled to himself and led them toward Okazaki, all of them breaking into a run. It was going to be a fine day, and though they started past dawn, Taichi calculated that they would make it to Chiryuu before sundown.

They passed Fujikawa quickly, for five miles was nothing for the runners, but did not leave before the Hara samurai demanded the locals to bow down to them. For a moment Yamato was afraid that they had entered into Rebel territory after seeing the flash of a boy's eyes as he glared up at the warriors, but the boy was a simple thief. Yamato said nothing when the boy made off with Dabumon's wallet during the ordered show of respect. Within moments they were off again, and within the hour they arrived at Okazaki. Yamato marveled at the long bridge they crossed, feeling that the scene would make an attractive painting, especially with the Okazaki castle in the background. Instead he composed a song, playing out a pleasant tune as they made their way across the bridge. Passersby smiled when the melody reached their ears, and the gait of the horses led by cross-looking fugitives became calmer.

Ten miles took another hour of travel, and Taichi treated them to a large meal of ramen at the closest shop. It was almost noon, and they had made excellent time. The journey provided no means of excitement, but now they were at Chiryuu, and the samurai and the musician made their way to the stables.

As expected, the horses left behind after the traders came through were not the best for lugging goods around. However, Taichi was pleased to see that the horses were healthy and treated well. These horses were built for speed, not power, and they were perfect for travelers like themselves. Settling on a black steed for himself and a chestnut horse for Yamato, Taichi paid the trader a little more than expected. "Tell no one we've left," he told them in a low whisper. The horse trader looked at the money he received with sparkling eyes and nodded many times, not even noticing that his customers had already left the stables.

"Do you really think it's okay to leave that bunch here without telling them?" asked Yamato as he struggled to get onto his horse. Taichi hoisted him up onto the saddle and patted his backside, which elicited a blush from the musician.

"If you wanna say goodbye to them, be my guest," Taichi said with a smirk as he mounted his own horse. "I left them adequate payment to get back to their grandmother. And a lovely message is on its way to her as we speak, carried by another horseman. I made sure to leave a detailed note about her grandsons' behaviour during our laborious trip. She's a lady who appreciates hard work, but manners precede all of them. They'll have a bit of a scare when they get back, I'm sure."

"You've thought of everything, haven't you?"

"It would be rude if I didn't. Now, do you know how to ride, or do you need a lesson?"

"A lesson would be helpful."

From his horse, Taichi guided Yamato and the chestnut breed to a meadow a good distance away from the town. Yamato had trouble adjusting to the change in transportation, and the chestnut horse was not as gentle as it seemed when he was in the stable. Frustrated, Yamato hopped off of the horse in a huff and began to play his koto again to soothe his pride. Taichi sat with him under the tree, rubbing the musician's back. "It takes time for a horse to get used to people," he explained. "If you're too intent on riding without getting to know the horse, you won't get very good results."

"You had the same amount of time to get to know your horse," Yamato complained as he tuned his instrument. "He seems to like you quite a bit, now."

The black horse, which Taichi had unoriginally dubbed Sho-en, nuzzled his cheek as if on cue. The samurai petted him affectionately, and Yamato laughed and shook his head as he played the tune he made up in Okazaki. Suddenly, the chestnut horse sidled up to him and began to sniff at his hair. The horse whinnied happily. "Looks like he likes your song, Yama," Taichi said with a smile. "Your horse is a music lover."

"Is that so," murmured Yamato as he continued playing. He stopped to tentatively reach a hand out to his horse's snout. The horse closed his eyes and allowed him to do so, now that he was calm. "I think I'll call you Marron."

"Weird name," Taichi said with a shrug. He stretched and gave a great yawn. "Shall we get on with the lesson?"

"Sounds like a plan," Yamato said as he put his koto away. Marron neighed, as if beckoning the musician to hop onto his back. _So even the animals can be a part of the Floating World,_ thought Yamato, amused and happy that their party had been reduced to himself and Taichi. The samurai called him from a distance, shouting instructions that Yamato could barely hear. With a laugh, he complained, but Marron knew what he was doing. The beautiful chestnut horse carried his rider toward Taichi and Sho-en, grunting joyfully at the wind blowing through his mane. Taichi watched them pass, his heart skipping a beat as he looked upon Yamato's refreshing figure, now amplified by Marron, who exhibited similar characteristics to his rider. A surge of youth drove them on, and Kyoto was just around the corner. They would be reunited with their families soon.

* * *

><p><strong>Notes:<strong>

1. Goyu is a well-known red light town along the Tokaido. As soon as the sun sets, the women there become aggressive and try to lure men into the teahouses and inns.  
>2. Akasaka, though not quite a red light area off the bat, is famous for their meshionna - they're basically very, very good waitresses that sometimes go into prostitution. As time went on, the meshionna inns tended to be run only by a couple of women.<br>3. When the obi is tied from the front, that often signals prostitution, because it's easier to pull off the ensemble if the knot is in the front.  
>4. "Nekkid" is a shout out from my favorite Taito site back in the day, ala Duch's Confessions of a Soccer Jock.<br>5. Sho-en is the soot of burnt pine, which is used as an ink stick.  
>6. Yamato's name for his horse isn't original, either. Marron still means "chestnut", but it's the French word for it. Taichi, in his ignorance, knows no French, and so he thinks that it's just a pretty name. But why does Yama know French? Hm...<p> 


	9. Chapter 9: The Quiet Streets of Kyoto

**Ukiyo ~ Floating World**  
><strong>Chapter 9: The Quiet Streets of Kyoto<strong>

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Digimon or any of its respective characters and such. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction devoted to the absolute perfection of my OTP.  
><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Wow, I can't believe it took so long to churn this chapter out. I swear I've been writing it, but it just hasn't been coming to me as quickly as it used to. I've got the scribbles for the story all over my room to prove it. Anyway, I noticed a huge mistake in my timeline, so sorry about that. It may or may not have an effect on the overall story, but I'll do my best to fix it. We'll see how it goes. Now that they're in Kyoto, expect more random personal experiences and more shenanigans. Cheers!

* * *

><p>A single feeble breeze was the only welcome that awaited the warrior and the musician upon their arrival in Kyoto. After all they had been through, the lack of celebration was nothing short of disappointing, but who would have cheered for their presence? Stroking the manes of their handsome, stolen horses, Taichi and Yamato faced the unpleasant realization that their existence was unknown to the world, despite what the world had thrown at them. It is a startling thing to be a teenager and find how insignificant the world will make one seem, and how often the world rejoices in one's anguish. But with a deep breath, the boys decided not to take the world's hurtful insult to their egos personally today. They beckoned their horses forward, crossing the bridge over the Kamo River and into the old capital.<p>

Neither spoke a word to each other as they trotted onto Sanjo Street. There was nothing to say as they passed the old, mottled wooden buildings; the abandoned food stands; and the strange feeling that there were more shady alleys than they remembered. For the life of them, they could not wrap their heads around the dismal scene. Hadn't the city been glowing only half a year before? Did summer manage to evaporate the livelihood of the capitol after such a lush springtime? But the Kamo River flowed about without a care, not taking note of the sad state of the once-magnificent city. The quiet between the boys was an understood, shared amount of bewilderment.

"We're here," Taichi croaked to his companion. His throat was dry from the last leg of their journey. His canteen was pinched the night before, during Yamato's guard shift. They had argued loudly until they were both red in the face. What placated them was a very small child hiding in the bushes nearby, who happened to drop Taichi's canteen at an unfortunate break in their bickering. The child was covered in dirt and decidedly poor; out of sympathy, the samurai allowed the youngling to keep it. Since then, he had been sharing with Yamato, taking fewer sips of the drinking water as a means of apology. Luckily, they were now in the front of the Yagami household, where he'd be able to slake his thirst from their deep well.

The secured their horses in the spacious stables of the property. Taichi was greatly conscious of the stark contrast between his mother's elegant home and the decaying city surrounding it. He offered a weak grin to the blond boy, who was politely pretending not to notice. Yamato must have expected such grandeur after having heard how close the Yagamis were to the Toyotomi clan. Old families held secure positions of power; this was something understood for generations. For all Taichi knew, Yamato's original home might have looked something similar, as the Ishida name carried enough weight on its own. With a soft smile toward the musician, Taichi nudged him to the entrance of his home. "Time to meet the folks," he half-joked. "Wait 'til they hear I brought a renowned actor/musician home…"

He would never tell anyone how excited he was at the prospect. Were Yamato a girl ("What would her name be, I wonder…Yamako?" he chuckled to himself and at his silly thoughts), his parents would have definitely approved (he'd leave out the actor bit, of course). Even as a man, Yamato outshone all the girls of Kyoto and Tokyo combined (strictly Taichi's opinion). The one-sided crush he had had on Takenouchi Sora quickly began to fade as he imagined the welcoming scene, with Yamato-Yamako as his bride, the thought of a peek of a milky white shoulder…

Taichi almost crashed into one of the heavy wooden pillars when he saw where his vivid imagination was taking him, and he wasn't ready for the destination. Flushing an unhealthy-looking beet red, Taichi began to laugh in horrendously loud volumes. Needless to say, he easily had the most embarrassing way of taking his mind off of a subject that was bothering him. _Yama's a man, just like me, and I gotta stop thinking of him like this,_ he thought, eyes wild.

The door opened, probably in response to Taichi's abundant peals of unexplained laughter, and his mother stood within the doorway. She looked as if she had seen a ghost when she saw the familiar voluminous hair, the perpetually dirty face. And then her eyes were blurred by tears as she wordlessly embraced her son. "Thank the merciful Kwannon…you're alive, my boy is alive…" she moaned in a faint whisper. She hugged her son with such tremendous force that the boys remembered with some guilt just how long they had been missing. "It's been _weeks_ since you were supposed to be back here!" Apparently, it did not take long for Yagami Yuuko to calm down long enough to scold her only son.

With Taichi's face still squashed between his mother's strong hands, she suddenly took notice of the lovely boy standing beside her child. Though weary from travel, clear from the darkened circles beneath his eyes, Yamato was still able to flash a dazzling smile. Mrs. Yagami chuckled, unfazed by the boy's natural charm. (The same could not be said for Taichi, who managed to wriggle free from his mother's grasp just in time to hide his red face.) "And who might this young man be?" she asked, her voice softened once more. Taichi took advantage of the moment to announce his thirst and disappeared into the house, presumably toward the well.

Not missing a beat, the blond grinned apologetically and bowed in greeting, keeping his head down. "My name is Yamato, and I hail from the Yamada Kengyo school of music. Your son has been helping me travel." At this, he immediately got onto his knees and pressed his forehead against his hands on the ground – a gesture of extreme deference, thanks, or to beg forgiveness of the receiving party. In his case, it was all of the above. "Lady Yagami, I am so sorry. Your son would have been here much earlier, safe and sound, if it weren't for me. He rescued me from thugs multiple times on the Tokaido, and I am so grateful for his presence, but I – "

Mrs. Yagami raised a hand and cleared her throat dramatically, a simple gesture that silenced the young man. She smiled and returned the bow. "That is enough. These days, we all must band together to keep each other safe. Taichi is a good boy, and a good samurai. I am simply glad that he is doing his job, and that he's returned in good health. In fact, I must thank _you_ for returning him to me as such." She returned his kneeling bow with perfect grace. Yamato thought that she must have been a geisha based on her excellent poise. But there was a fire in Yagami Yuuko's eyes that matched Taichi's, and Yamato suspected that she was as strong as she was polished, much like a tigress in the wood. He made a mental note to never get on her bad side.

"Please, come in," she said, her disarming smile rivaling his own. "You look famished."

Another short bow later, he felt he was now allowed to enter. He removed his geta and carefully placed them on the shoe rack, grimacing at the sorry sight. They had been brand new when Master Kengyo gave them to him. Now they were battered with the wear and tear that travel often came with, covered in dust and grime and other things he didn't want to name. With a pang of guilt, he realized he hadn't thought of contacting Kengyo during his travels. He was so busy running from thugs, riding in palanquins, and enjoying Taichi's company that he hadn't even thought of a way to get ahold of his beloved father figure. _If only there were a way to contact him instantly,_ he thought grimly. _I must remember to ask for a messenger straight away._

He hoped his brain would remind him when the time came, for when he looked up from his shoes, he was met with the most gorgeous interior he had ever seen. The Yagami manor was decorated with simplistic elegance, the latest in minimalist style. To be sure, it was quite Japanese in its very essence. Though the cream-colored walls were mostly barren, with great effort Yamato saw that the wood had been delicately carved with a grove of cherry blossom trees. In the middle of summer, when one was suffering from the oppressive heat, the extraordinary carvings instantaneously brought the cool breezes and gentle scents of spring to the casual viewer with a single glance. Those without a trained eye wouldn't even understand why or how the feelings of spring popped into their minds.

The alcove held a beautiful brush painting in the style of Hokusai (closer inspection revealed that it was a mere reproduction, albeit a skillful one). The work depicted the serene ebb and flow of the Kamo River at dusk, and tiny spots of moonlight yellow symbolized the lightning bugs that tended to lazily fly as soon as the sun set. Every aspect of the Yagami household seemed to overflow with meaning in this manner. It was impossible to look upon one part of the place without feeling the desire to inspect it again.

Though the manse looked like any ordinary home from the outside, save for the sheer amount of precious space and the imperative minute details that turned the place into an impeccable work of art. All that was missing was a touch of ambience…Yamato's fingers itched to play his koto to complete this lovely place, just to give this living space a voice to sing with…

But there was no need for his music here. No sooner had he reached for his koto that the sounds of joyous laughter echoed throughout the house. Taichi must have reunited with his father, with whom he shared the same booming guffaws. Yamato stood cautiously, inching toward the next room and trying to avoid being spotted in the well-ventilated home. He felt awkward and uncivilized, as it wasn't right to wander about another's property without accompaniment or permission, but another voice had caught his ear and drawn him toward the source of noise. It was that of a young girl – the same girl who spoke to him in his dream, the one who told him that Takeru was safe!

By this time the Yagamis had begun to shuffle back into the living room. Panicked, Yamato stumbled back to the entrance where he had been left along with his shoes, almost tripping on the hem of his emerald yukata. He patted his hair into place nervously, fidgeting in the _seiza_ position, reading to bow when the family entered. Anxiety bubbled in the pit of his stomach, and he couldn't understand why. He had met several families before; why, hadn't he performed as both an actor and a kotoist in front of hundreds of strangers before? Immediately, he tried calming his nerves with his breathing exercises, but they didn't seem to be helping him this time around.

Taichi's father entered first, a boisterous chuckle exiting from his lungs. He was a proud-looking man, his chestnut hair shorter than his son's but still untidy and sticking up at odd angles. As Yamato motioned to bow, Mr. Yagami reached out to pull him into a bear hug, but Mrs. Yagami calmly placed a hand on her husband's arm. "Susumu, dear," she said primly. Like a child who had just realized his error, Mr. Yagami jumped and immediately altered his behavior. He took on a traditional, formal greeting this time around, and bowed as Yamato had. When they both rose from their bows, Yagami Susumu wore a sheepish grin that exactly matched Taichi's.

Taichi hung around the background with eyes that read, _Parents – what can ya do?_ He shrugged and placed his hands behind his neck, looking casual with an amused grin, biding his time while he waited for his parents to finish fussing over Yamato. The musician caught his eye for a moment, and he shook his head. _You didn't prepare me for this,_ Yamato thought sullenly, though he couldn't help but return the samurai's smile.

So this was a traditional samurai household, one of the many homes constructed in a castle-town, meant to keep the samurais close to the capital and the daimyo. Yamato assumed that their home in Odaiba was where they had been stationed before they suddenly moved back to Kyoto. In passing, Taichi muttered something or other about how many samurai families disliked the arrangement; this made sense, considering many samurai had families along the Tokaido. With the arrival of the new political system the samurai were to work as tax collectors (among other odd jobs) for the daimyo if they wanted to keep their high positions. To keep them bound to the shogunate, samurai were forced to leave their families and live in the capital for one to two years to serve their country. _But we never complained_, said Taichi at the time. _We were always in the shogun's good graces, and honestly, hopping from Tokyo to Kyoto was no big deal. After all, we already moved an entire capital over! What's a common household compared to an entire capital?_

Taichi's parents continued to coddle him, presenting him with gifts and other offerings. Hikari, the young girl, was silent as she brought freshly made mochi for him to sample. As the formal proceedings dragged on, Yamato felt pelted with the constant reminders of the different worlds he and Taichi were from. Their ultra-traditional tastes were shocking; after all, Yamato was a young man of the Floating World, and all he knew before was the koto. He could only feign the feeling that he was quite used to such rigid structure. Although he was well and good at performing the classic tunes that every musician was equipped with, he was still an artist, and had expressed himself through what he thought were modern bouts of music when he invented songs. He had the feeling such creativity was not welcome in the Yagami household, as warm as they were. There was something in the over-practiced air of his welcome that resembled a ceremony more than Yamato had liked to admit. And within the safe, structured motions of Mrs. Yagami's deft hands as she prepared the tea and the secure feelings brought about as Mr. Yagami knelt in attention, something clicked in Yamato's brain. _Something tells me that Taichi is more of a Loyalist than he thinks he is. Or isn't. I…well, I'm not even certain…I'm just confusing myself. But this home he was raised in…there's no other explanation, is there?_

Discreetly, he turned his eyes upon his traveling companion and tried to study the boy. In just two weeks they had encountered more than he ever thought they would have since their friendship blossomed that spring. But if there was anything odd about their friendship, it was that Yamato hardly knew anything at all about the young samurai.

Before long, it was time for supper. Yamato was quickly shuffled into the Yagami's dining room, where a host of servants delivered food in droves. Unused to such treatment, Yamato was much more bashful and embarrassed in this moment than he ever had in his life. The warmth of the home was overpowering. He was briefly reminded of the time before he ran away from home, when dinner was as busy as this, but that was a long time ago. Taking a deep breath, he cleared those thoughts from his mind and focused on the astounding amount of effort that went into evening mealtime. Dish after dish was served for what seemed like hours, and the large room was filled with mirth and laughter. Yamato and Taichi were placed prominently at the end of the table so the household could share in the joy of their return. The musician did not like the feeling of having so many eyes on him when he wasn't playing the koto; the attention seemed undeserved, and he truly had no idea how to answer the questions asked of them. He had tried to explain what had happened on the river, but severed heads did not seem to be a good topic of discussion over dinner. Again, he wanted to talk about their time at the Kotonomama Hachimanguu shrine, but realized he was asleep for much of that time. Everyone else seemed to be asking Taichi questions, who was able to answer them all, complete with reenactments of the villains he faced that only Taichi could ridicule in such a manner.

With a resigned grin, Yamato quietly ate his food and looked around for Hikari, eager to ask her how Takeru was doing. Unfortunately, she was at the furthest end of the table. If he kept looking over at the Yagami's young daughter, he would probably be kicked out, regardless of his reasoning. Besides, who would believe him? _I saw the girl in one of my dreams and she was with my younger brother, who I haven't seen for years, literally, and she said something about a red string of fate and that he was all right and that we'd be reunited and the shrine is somewhere, and a hut, and..._yes, that would not have gone well. He didn't even tell Taichi about the dream, thinking it too uncanny that he had had a dream about their siblings just as Taichi had a few nights ago. This particular dream was one he had during their parched time, just yesterday. With a sigh, he politely shoved his food about his small plate. Finally, the meal was over, but he still had no chance to speak to Hikari as he was guided by the servants into an elegant guest room.

It was clear that the Yagamis were well-equipped for Yamato's and Taichi's arrival. Although the town around them looked poor and unexpectedly unkempt, the castle-town that held the Yagami manor and the other samurai homes stood tall. Gazing out the window from the guest room, Yamato notcied that not all of these homes were filled. His limbs, now recalling the aches and pains from travel and his amateur equestrian bit, begged him to rest, but he found it too difficult. Unaccustomed to the warmth and familiarity the Yagamis were providing, Yamato felt dangerously out of place. Every time a servant came around with generous offers of hospitality, the musician stuttered numerous thanks while trying tin vain to decline the sweets, teas, antique kimonos and armor. He assumed that this was how the upper half lived, but he couldn't have known how much Yuuko and Susumu had missed their only son. The frightening conditions of the road were only worsening, and they had feared the worst. Hikari was the only one at ease, acting as a beacon of light to her worried parents.

Finally hit with a wave of exhaustion, Yamato pulled a luxurious futon from the oshiire and laid his head down. His eyes stopped fighting sleep, and he began to count the notes of the cicadas outside to help him drift off. One, two, three...his lids were heavy and blinked as such. But when he opened them, he saw a girl quietly standing in this doorway. Startled, Yamato sat up too quickly, his heart beating fast with trepidation. Where had she come from? As his vision snapped back to attention, he recognized the young girl as Hikari. Clutching his chest, he managed to crack a tentative smile, hoping the fear didn't show too obviously. Young children just didn't walk into dimly lit rooms when everyone was supposed to be asleep, honestly.

"O-Oh...er, I...I didn't see you there," he managed to say. "I, ah...I don't think we've met, young miss. I'm - "

"Ishida Yamato," completed the girl. "I know. We've met before."

Stumbling over words, Yamato was quite shaken. How could that even be possible? And he was so careful not to reveal his last name in the Yagami home - he had seen how Taichi reacted and thought it wise to keep it quiet. _We've met before?_ he thought wildly. The dream, yes. but not in real life. This meant it couldn't have been real, of course. But at least the curiosity he had during dinner wasn't as farfetched as it seemed, then. He thought back as far as he could, trying to make sure he definitely hadn't physically seen her until today. The only time he had seen her was in that dream of his. How long ago had that been? Immediately, he felt superstition get the better of him. The girl had hardly regarded him during the welcome - could she have possibly been a wandering spirit?

He furrowed a brow, regarding the smiling girl with an air of caution. Considering all the unnatural situations he had found himself in from Odaiba to Kyoto, eh had reason for being on guard. "We've...met before," he reiterated dumbly, as if testing her. His voice shook slightly and his skin ran cold, but he was determined to understand this strangeness.

"Yes. Will you visit your brother soon?" she asked pleasantly. She could have been talking about how the weather was faring. Apparently, conveying cryptic messages through strangers' dreams was a common phenomenon for the girl. Perhaps "phenomenon" was already too strong of a word to use.

"Er...sorry...but...could you possibly help me understand something?" He scratched his head as he tried to sort the strange situation out. "When you say...'we've met'...er, you mean...you mean..."

"The dreams, yes," finished Hikari. She chuckled. "Funny, from what Takeru tells me, I would have guessed you to be a bit cooler than this."

"I assure you, I'm really quite the charmer when I'm not under the impression of being haunted." He paused. "And...I suppose I have no reason to doubt you. Sort of." There was no need for any more explanation. He knew it would have been impossible. But he hadn't told anyone his surname, nor his brother's name. Even if some sort of witchcraft were involved, he firmly believed that there was nothing demonic about it. If her guidance led him to ruin, he would rue about it later; thoughts of seeing his younger brother made him so hopeful that there was no other way to go about it. He simply had to believe! He came to Kyoto to learn more about the world; never in his wildest dreams did he think he'd find his long-lost brother as well.

Hikari's large, curious eyes were creepy in the dimness, lit only by the moonlight. Yamato repressed a shudder and sat up. "Well, young miss. Now that we've properly introduced each other, I hope it would be all right if I could ask to see my brother," he said. Thoughts of sleep were replaced with a giddiness now that he knew Takeru was somewhere closeby. Would he even remember his older brother? An even better question - would Yamato even know what his younger brother looked like? The last time he had seen him was years and years ago, when he was but a child...

The girl bowed and smiled apologetically. "I certainly hope it's all right," she said thoughtfully. "But he's not here, remember?"

Yamato racked his brain and groaned. In both his and Taichi's dreams, they both saw a sort of hut. "Right...but does that mean I'll have to wait until autumn?" he asked. It was still the seventh month. The sweat on his nose attested to that.

"It's a funny place, Mt. Kurama," Hikari said thoughtfully. "It's as if it's eternally autumn there. Though, of course, I've really only been there once, so maybe it's not..."

"Mt. Kurama. Is that where he is? Is that close by?" Yamato asked excitedly, already out of his futon and ready to fold it back down. The soft sound of a footstep made them both freeze. It was late; Yamato cursed, realizing what the situation looked like. He was in his nightclothes, about to hurriedly place a futon back into the oshiire, and she was the young lady of the house, standing in his doorway. Hikari must have thought the same thing, for she darted off before she could reply. With a sigh, Yamato lay the futon down once more, not bothering to make it neat. He would have to wait until tomorrow to see his brother.

_Please remember me,_ he pleaded to whoever would listen as he forced his eyes shut.

* * *

><p>Yamato woke early that morning. He had hardly slept four hours, but he was as alert as the chattering birds outside of his window. He took a moment to appreciate the beautiful garden view from his window before stepping out to rinse his body. The same slew of servants rushed to him before he could pull off his robes, whirling around him and leaving toiletries in tiny baskets. He was dizzy by the time they left, and quite naked; gulping, he peeked in to make sure no one was around before rinsing himself and entering the bath. Soaking to down to his lips, Yamato looked up at the fine wooden ceiling as he planned out his day.<p>

"G'mornin'!"

The blonde sat up at attention, water splashing around him. Taichi's familiar voice made him smile. "You startled me," Yamato said as he made room in the large bath for his friend. "Good morning, Taichi."

Taichi rinsed himself hurriedly and hopped into the bath, hissing at the sudden heat on his skin. With a faux-brave face, he sat down in the bath, letting the hot water surround him fully. "Tsss, I forgot how hot the water was here," he mumbled. "How'd you sleep, Kiyohime?"

"Stop calling me that," Yamato said with a patronizing look. "Your parents might think you actually have a princess with you in their private bath."

"You gotta point there," Taichi grinned, stretching. "You're up early. Too excited for your first free day here in Kyoto? Maybe too on-edge, thinking we'll be attacked at any moment like we were on the Tokaido? Or maybe you were just waiting for me to get in the bath with you, so you wouldn't be scared."

A guffaw bubbled up in Yamato's throat. He raised a brow at Taichi and splashed a bit of water at him. "Why on earth would I be afraid of a bath? If you keep calling me Kiyohime, I'd think you were the one afraid of it. In some versions of that tale, she did emerge from the water as that horrible serpent."

Taichi seemed to consider this for a moment before dunking Yamato's head in the water. The boys roughhoused until they were almost breathless with laughter. "You know if I were the handsome young monk - and I am handsome - I'd come back for you. Anyway, what I mean is, I noticed last night that my parents have been really strict since I've been gone," he said, scratching his head guiltily. "They hardly let Hikari out of their sight, because she apparently disappeared for a couple of days too."

Yamato shifted uncomfortably in the tub, pretending to be mindful of which part of the bath he wanted to sit on. Taichi continued. "I'm beginning to think...that dream that I had, in Akasaka? What if Hikari was...actually there, in that place, with the hut..."

"She was in Mt. Kurama," Yamato whispered. "That's where they were. Your sister. My brother."

"...How would you know that?"

"I had a dream, just before we got here. I must have been delusional, from what little water we had, but...I had a dream, not unlike yours. It felt...almost as if I were meant to have it much, much earlier. Perhaps at the same time as yours," replied Yamato. He sniffled, his body now adjusted to the heat of the water. Taichi remained silent, waiting for the musician to carry on. "It was exactly as you said. I was walking through a mountain path, with leaves crunching under my feet...and I saw them. Instead of your sister calling me, it was my brother, of course. And my mother."

Taichi leaned back, taking in the information as the steam tickled his nose. "That's...interesting. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was...afraid," Yamato admitted. "Haven't you noticed how some strange things have been happening to us since we've left Odaiba? The dream felt so real, I thought I would lose myself."

The brunette took a deep breath and slid deeper into the bath, making gurgling sounds with the water as he pondered. It was a sound observation. Surely, if a normal person were to experience all the supernatural things they had been seeing, they would have questioned their sanity. But both of the boys had been in the midst of the eerie events, although it was often only Taichi who saw them - the dreams, the Tengu. "Y'know, personally, I would've felt better if you told me," he finally said. "I was beginning to think that I was the only one. I mean, really, you think it's been easy for me? When it comes to spirits and all that, I figure it's best to leave things to them. But don't you see? You've had the dream, too. So I'm not alone. Which, in turn, means you're not alone. Right? So please, if something else happens, please tell me."

Yamato nodded and smiled at his friend. "I will do that. If you don't mind, I think I'll be going up to Mt. Kurama today."

Looking slightly disappointed, Taichi gave a shrug. "Sure! Sure, that sounds like a great idea. Makes perfect sense."

The slender musician stood, his naked body glistening wonderfully with the water and looking mysterious enveloped in the steam. Taichi gulped, doing his best to avert his eyes from the boy. The bath was clearly doing Yamato a world of good that he didn't need. His pale skin seemed to have been polished by the bath salts, and his nipples were small and pink, like little cherry blossoms. Taichi made a strangled sort of sound as his eyes descended to Yamato's nether regions, and before the blond could turn around and ask what was wrong, he ducked into the water. With a shrug, Yamato finally pulled on his yukata and exited the bathroom. When he couldn't hold his breath any longer, the strange mound of disembodied brown hair that was Taichi rose from the water. He wiped his face and silently thanked whoever was watching that the steam happened to strengthen before Yamato could see his obvious physical reaction.

"I'll show you around the city next time, then," Taichi murmured to himself, pretending that the beautiful boy was still with him. He absentmindedly began playing with the water, wondering what he would be doing in the meantime.

* * *

><p>No one else was in the Yagami manor. Yamato thought it strange that he was able to pull on his freshly-washed clothes without getting ambushed by the scurrying servants, but he was in no position to complain. He thought of looking in to one of the rooms, but that was a preposterously rude idea, and so was unnecessary shouting. He knew it would be an insult to his gracious hosts if he didn't let them know that he was going out, so he opted for a written note instead until he realized he wouldn't know where to put it. With a sigh, he left it in his room. <em>How different this world is,<em> he thought to himself as he stepped out, tying his wakizashi and ice pick to his belt. He considered the weapons and wondered if he'd even need them; in the end, he quickly untied the wakizashi and kept the ice pick within his robes, nestled next to his ema and the bell charm. _Best not to look like I'm a troublemaker._

Bowing to no one in particular, he left the strangely quiet home, hoping that Taichi knew where everyone else had gone, and that he had plans of his own for the day.

* * *

><p>Taichi had almost fallen asleep in the bath when he noticed the time. Judging by the sunlight pouring through the slits in the wood, it must have been the hour of the dragon. He had gone into the bath with Yamato during the hour of the rabbit. He cursed to himself, choosing not to acknowledge his pruny fingers as he rushed out of the bath. "Sorry!" he called out. "I'm getting dressed now, I'm getting ready, don't wait up - "<p>

Outside of his room hung a light-blue haori. With shaking hands, he hastily grabbed the outfit and shoved it into his closet. "No one's home, huh," he muttered. "So you decided to let me decide...assuming you haven't done so for me already." He dressed quickly into his preferred robes, firmly tucking his swords into his belt after reassuring himself of their sharpness. He now understood why the city seemed so dead: the Shinsengumi were out and about again, probably back from their missions from the other parts of Japan. What he didn't know was that his family supported them, and expected him to do the same.

His first instinct was to warn Yamato, but he stood at his door and thought it best that he didn't know. The less he knew, the better. In fact, he would pretend to have no idea about the clear message on his door, lest he make any unwanted enemies. The fewer enemies he had, the less likely Yamato would be attacked. He calmed down a bit then, shaking his head to clear his thoughts._ He's headed to Mt. Kurama, and no one of consequence would be there,_ he thought firmly. _But it's probably a good idea to stay close by, isn't it?_

Before allowing himself any leeway to make decisions on his own without council, he decided to head to Kodaiji Temple and visit Jyou. Worrywart though he was, Taichi knew that he was actually quite good at giving advice. In any case, he knew he would probably run into Koushirou as well; it was worth a shot. He would gauge the safety of the streets on his way out and back. If he felt that Yamato were in danger, he'd rush off to Mt. Kurama in a flash. He went to the stables and fetched Sho-en, patting his nose before hopping on. Marron was not to be found - Taichi was glad that Yamato had the sense to bring a horse. Mt. Kurama was a long ways away from the Nakagyo Ward, about three hours on foot with proper knowledge of the area. At least he knew that Yamato would most likely be back before night fell.

He found Jyou outside of the temple, sweeping as usual. The older boy seemed very interested in getting a particular spot of dirt out of the rocky floor, and didn't seem to be succeeding. "You gonna sweep until there's a hole in the ground?" Taichi asked after amusing himself with a few minutes of watching Jyou yell at the stain.

Jyou looked up in alarm, regarding Taichi as if he were a ghost. He held onto the broom tightly, his hands starting to shake as he narrowed his eyes at the samurai. "Taichi...you're alive!" he stammered, still rooted to the spot.

Taichi grinned half-heartedly and looked around the complex. "Yeah, I am," he said nonchalantly. "Looks like you are, too. Glad the spirits haven't gotten the better of you."

"Hey, don't joke about that." Jyou pushed his small spectacles from the bridge of his nose before putting the broom around. "How long have you been back? We haven't heard a word of you since...since, well, you were supposed to be back a couple weeks ago. The unfortunate word going around was that you were a goner."

"It takes a lot more than a week to kill me, I think," replied Taichi. "Uh, nice...specs."

Embarrassed, Jyou looked to the ground guiltily. "My father said my eyesight was becoming bothersome, and...well, here's the result. Admittedly, they are rather useful. Now I don't think that small pieces of paper flying on the wind are ghosts."

"Don't worry, I won't ask any more questions about your second pair of eyes," said Taichi. "But, er, did you want to fill me in on the goings-on around town? Kyoto seems a little...dead."

The blue-haired boy looked around the temple quickly before inviting his friend inside. Taichi learned that the Shinsengumi had indeed returned, and the entire town was becoming restless because of it. The ascension of a new Shogun did nothing to quell the townsfolk, and there were rumors that the new young Emperor Meiji was ready to give power back to the imperial family. There was also talk of the capital being permanently moved to Edo. The news was disconcerting, and Taichi had to sit down and let the information reach his brain before he could take a breath. Suddenly, he let out a bark of laughter. "Y'know, I thought Edo was the capital this whole time. That's what my parents told me when we moved to Odaiba," he said. "So I guess that wasn't true at all."

"Your parents were on the right track, at least," offered Jyou as he prepared a pot of tea.

A sudden thought occurred to him. "Jyou, did you see my parents pass through this morning?"

Jyou looked up from his tea-making as he struggled to remember. "No, I don't think so," he remarked. "I did see one of the Shinsengumi officers, though. That horrible bright blue really stands out, doesn't it? I didn't get to see his face, but it seemed like he was accompanying someone out of the city."

_I wonder if that was my father,_ Taichi thought grimly. _I wonder how many other secrets have been kept from me, right under my nose..._

"But you know who I did see? That actor who came by last time to play the koto. He came this way asking for directions to Mt. Kurama, and gosh, was he a long way off. I sent him in the right direction. Good thing he was on horseback, or else he'd never make it. I just hope he doesn't run into any trouble." Jyou set the cup before Taichi, but the samurai had already dashed out of the temple. "Well, that was rude. I guess I'll just drink this tea myself. Oh, hello, Koushiro! You can drink this tea with me!"

A dazed Koushiro walked into the shrine. "Was that Taichi who zoomed past me just now?" he asked, brushing off his haori and kneeling with his friend.

"I'm pretty sure it was," replied Jyou. "Thank Kwannon he's alive."

"Yes, thank Kwannon..." Koushiro sipped the tea gingerly, looking out the temple and listening for the fading sound of Taichi's horse. "Does he know?"

Jyou shook his head. "I honestly had no idea that he was going to be back. You should be careful, Koushiro. I don't think Taichi knows the enormity of what's happening to this city - not yet."

The short redhead smiled. "He'll understand. He'll come around. That's the best thing about Taichi - he's always changing, maybe faster than some. But the understanding will eventually catch up to him. Now, if you'll excuse me..." Koushiro made a short bow and stood. "It looks like it's time to see if Miss Tachikawa's doing all right."

Chuckling, Jyou cleaned up the pottery and nodded at the younger boy. "You should really say something, you know."

"What I have to say is of no importance," Koushiro said firmly. "My job is to keep her safe, just as yours is to keep Kodaiji pristine."

"A job of equal importance, then," said Jyou. "Be careful on the roads. Taichi's headed for Mt. Kurama, I think, so you should be safe for now."

"My secret is safe with you, my friend." With that, Koushiro bowed and, after a succinct prayer, left the temple.

* * *

><p>The musician made good time with the help of Marron. Thankfully, he brought his koto with him, so the trip wasn't as strange as it could have been. The streets of Kyoto were uncannily empty for the most part, even though the hour of the dragon was supposed to be one of the busiest times of day. Merchants should have been setting up shop and servants were supposed to be buying ingredients to make breakfast. The quiet was unsettling, so as Marron carried them through the old capital, Yamato plucked the strings of his koto and sang a popular folk song from his childhood. Singing helped calm his mind, and before he knew it, they had arrived at the base of Mt. Kurama.<p>

The mountain itself was enormous. From where he stood, the distance didn't seem as grand, but from the winding paths on the mountain, he knew it wouldn't be an easy stroll. With a resigned sigh, he scratched Marron behind the ears. "What do you think, Marron? Can we make it up there?"

Marron whinnied in reply, waiting for Yamato to lead him. Nodding to his pleasant horse, Yamato began the steep trek to the initial part of the mountain, past the grand Nio-mon. He washed his face and hands before proceeding up the slope. "This won't be fun," he breathed as they got past the first part. Panting, he sat on the ground, taking a sip from his newly replenished canteen. He gulped loudly when he realized a snake had begun to glare at them from between the stones leading up to Yuki-jinja. Taking a deep breath, he rose slowly, hoping his movements wouldn't startle the creature. Marron did not notice the snake, but recognized his master's fear and nuzzled up next to him. Unconsciously, Yamato patted his horse's muzzle, finding some comfort in the action. Finally, after what seemed to be a lifetime, the snake blinked and disappeared back between the stones.

Chuckling nervously, he looked at Marron and hopped back onto the saddle. "Perhaps Taichi's ridiculous idea of calling me Kiyohime might actually be of use," he said aloud. There was no one to answer back, but for the time being, he hoped that the spirits would help him get through the mountain. If he had to imagine he was Kiyohime, with her entire being engulfed in flames of jealousy and wrapped in a new skin of snake's scales to get through Mt. Kurama, then so be it. _I just hope I have a better shot of surviving than she did,_ he thought miserably. _I doubt such negative thoughts would do well in this serene place._

* * *

><p>Taichi went back to the Yagami manor to pick up a few supplies before heading out. Before he could leave, though, the familiar voice of a childhood friend caught his attention. Feelings of the old crush rising up in his stomach like butterflies, Taichi dove behind one of the large pillars near the entrance of his home and held his breath as Sora walked by. He didn't want to eavesdrop, but it wasn't his fault that Mimi and Sora clucked like hens whenever they were together.<p>

"You're saying you saw a prince this morning, did you?" giggled Mimi. "That's ridiculous. Why, I would've known first!"

"You would not! You hate waking up early," Sora said. Taichi could picture her grinning. He wondered what color her yukata was, how her hair was styled that day. A blush came to his cheeks. He adored the girl for years, and since traveling with Yamato, he hadn't given her much thought. But it wasn't his fault that Yamato was more beautiful than any girl he had seen in his lifetime. After hearing her voice after a long separation, he felt a different kind of warmth than he had with the musician. It was the feeling of familiarity, of his hometown.

"I love your kimono, Miss Tachikawa," came a voice that Taichi didn't recognize right away. It was another girl, probably younger than Mimi and Sora; perhaps it was Miyako, he couldn't quite remember. He guessed that Mimi was close to completing her _geiko_ training, now that she had a fan. Mimi simply giggled in response.

"Now, tell me more about that mysterious marriage proposition again, since it clearly has something to do with all this nonsense," Mimi demanded. Taichi's heart sunk. Unconsciously, he began to listen harder.

"Mimi, I told you, it was a long time ago, arranged when I was still a little girl. Probably before I was born, even."

"But you think it's that prince you saw."

"Of course I think that, but..."

Quite suddenly Taichi felt that he didn't want to listen anymore. So the girl he had loved since childhood was already promised to another man? He slumped against the pole, holding his head in his hands. First the Shinsengumi proposition, and now this? Kyoto did not have many good things lined up for his return, it seemed. Fighting back a yell of frustration, he slowly got up and quietly dusted off his pants. He was ready to mount Sho-en when mention of a familiar name shot through his veins like ice.

"...We both know Ishida Yamato isn't a prince," Sora continued. The girls' voices trailed off in a flurry of giggles and compliments, not knowing that they left Taichi, hidden behind the Yagami gates, numb with thoughts of betrayal.

Takenouchi Sora was to be married to Ishida Yamato. His own father was probably part of the Shinsengumi. Kyoto was in ruin. These were the only things in Taichi's mind, thoughts that kept cruelly replaying as he wordlessly shut himself back into his room.

* * *

><p><strong>Notes:<strong>

1. I'm not sure how this applied to samurai families, but samurai tended to have two homes. Every year or so, they were required to head back to the capital, away from their families. There are some inconsistencies in my timeline, which will be explained in later numbers. In any case, this is why the Yagamis own property in both Odaiba and Kyoto. Here, the Kyoto home is both Taichi's mother's home as well as the capital home, three streets away from the capital. The further you are from the capital, the less important you are, supposedly.  
>2. Young girls' names tend to have -ko attached to them, i.e. Sakurako (cherry blossom child), Hanako (flower child), Yuuko (tender child), etc. Yamako is Taichi's feminine version of Yamato, which means "mountain child".<br>3. Katsushika Hokusai was an Edo ukiyo-e artist and printmaker. He is most famous for the print of the Great Wave of Kanagawa, but is also credited with some of the earliest forms of manga. Interestingly, at age 51, he changed his name to Taito as he created his Hokusai manga.  
>4. The Shinsengumi were a group of 100 or so ronin who were charged with policing the town of Kyoto. They were meant to quell rabblerousers who were loyal to the emperor but not to the Shogun. They were openly feared and despised by many who wanted Japan to move forward and away from the Bakufu.<br>5. The hour of the rabbit is from 6-8am, while the hour of the dragon is from 8-10am.  
>6. This bit here where Taichi thinks the capital has been moved to Edo? This is where I realized my mistake in the year. The story takes place in 1867, after the death of Emperor Komei. Right now it's August, so the new Emperor Meiji has already succeeded the throne. The capital is still in Kyoto, and it won't be moved to Edo until 1868, when it will be renamed to Tokyo, or east capital.<br>7. Nio-mon is the grand gate at the entrance of Mt. Kurama, translated as the "Gate of the Guardians".  
>8. Not really important, but when I was visiting Yuki-jinja, there was indeed a snake hiding between some stones. It was really freaky. Also, if you visit Mt. Kurama today, you'll notice that you don't necessarily have to make the steep climb to the majority of the spiritual sites! There's a convenient cable car line that will take you up and down the mountain.<p> 


	10. Chapter 10: Reunions

**Ukiyo ~ Floating World  
>Chapter 10: Reunions<strong>

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Digimon or anything involved with Digimon. The history that I research is all done via various books from the library and internet sources. I just want my OTP to be happy.  
><strong>Author's Note:<strong> I'm SO SO SORRY for the delay. Like a million times over. I know, I know…I'm terrible. It took a really long time for me to get the strength to write this again, but it's better late than never, right? I apologize if the writing isn't up to snuff as it's been far too long. I hope this chapter works well enough for me to write another one. Thanks for sticking with me, and with any luck, this addition will be a sudden surprise. Thanks especially to the people who sent over messages trying to lure me out of hiding. I'll do my best to keep writing; I had to do the research and re-read my work, so this should keep me well caught up for a while.

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><p>No one land possesses the blessing and curse of an eternal season. Mount Kurama, however, must have begged to differ, for the crisp crimson leaves carpeted the mountain floor as if they had been sown there by Ooyamatsumi himself as he made his way to Mount Fuji. Yamato breathed carefully, feeling something different in the air. He wasn't sure if it was malicious or simply different; either way, he felt that it was best to keep himself safe. Marron was fine company despite the shortcoming of not offering comforting conversation. The mountain was steep, and every so often Yamato had to force himself not to look down. The fear of falling was great, and with its narrow roads, the possibility made that fear grow exponentially.<p>

Yamato passed no one on the road. The only humans that he had seen were glimpses of priests quickly running back into the many shrines on the holy mountain. He struggled to remember what Kengyo had told him about the place, but his path had always been pointed toward Gion, which was very far from this secluded area. Interrupting his train of thought, Marron neighed loudly, alerting the boy to a fully-grown centipede that was about to launch an attack on his foot. Gulping, Yamato gingerly stepped around the insect and hurried on. With so few people out on the road, he did not want to incur the wrath of the toxins in the tiny creature. He had had enough of being sick from the journey on the Tokaido.

"Mount Kurama, Mount Kurama," Yamato murmured, racking his brain for any information. "All Master Kengyo talked about were the tengu…and then we hurried on to Gion…"

Embarrassed at himself for his lack of knowledge, Yamato wanted to continue. Takeru was out here somewhere. Hikari never actually confirmed that he was here, but from the way she spoke, he felt that she was being sincere. The entire fact that she knew about her brother meant that he must be here. Yamato decided to hold onto this faith and hurry forward, but he couldn't help but gape as he looked up at the main shrine.

The winding path up the mountain was made to guide temple-goers to all the small shrines and places of historic value. Yamato did not know much about this, but he paid little mind to the tinier shrines. He didn't do this on purpose; he felt that the place felt physically different from the city, filled with a spiritual energy that he couldn't explain. He came in, silently praying that he would not be disturbing those spirits, clutching the _ema_ in his robes for some comfort.

The main temple, Honden, was bright red and beautifully built. Absently stroking Marron's mane, Yamato led the horse over and tied him to a pole as he peered around the shrine. A slight breeze felt wonderful to him; it was so gentle that it did not disturb the lanterns that hung from the sturdy wood. Statues of proud tigers guarded the shrine. He had often seen statues of dogs, but this was the first time he had seen these fierce creatures. Their mouths were curved into different shapes; the first had its mouth open, and the other's was closed shut. _The beginning of everything, and the end of everything_. Yamato shut his eyes involuntarily, listening to what must have been the sound of spirits; was that what these tigers were telling him? He breathed out slowly, not realizing he had walked straight into the temple.

He was met with an enormous statue of a golden Buddha. The silence in this place was deafening, but calming. Images of the merciful Kwannon came to mind, along with the fearsome but brave warrior Bishamonten. For a moment, he thought of the distinction between himself and Taichi in those figures, and laughed as he quickly put those ideas to rest. Taichi was certainly a brave and fearsome warrior, of course, but Yamato could never compare himself to the thousand-armed Kwannon. He was Kiyohime, after all. It was the statue of Kwannon that was tossed aside by the woman in the story. He shuddered to think of what consequences would be in store for him if he compared himself to these powerful supernatural beings, especially with the doomed nickname of Kiyohime around his neck. With a quiet apology, he bowed himself out of the temple.

From his experience in the temple, Yamato felt the strange sensation that he should continue going forth. _What you seek is nearby_, the temple itself seemed to say. He continued following the path past the main temple, making sure to bow once more before leaving. Another breeze blew past, and he hoped that it meant his apology was accepted.

—

"Marriage!" Taichi exclaimed to no one in particular. He swung his training sword about violently, hitting the wooden target without any sense of finesse. One of the main perks of being the son of a samurai was having a backyard that held a multitude of training dolls. "Of all the dirty…rotten…stupid tricks…"

Each word struck a bitter chord in his heart. This whole time, he figured, Yamato only wanted to come along to Kyoto to finally meet his bride-to-be, and of course it had to be Takenouchi Sora! Who else? All that talk of wanting to learn more about the world was rubbish. That damned beautiful boy! Taichi slammed the _bokken_ into the mannequin over and over. He knew the best way to train was to think about the enemy, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't picture those blue eyes, that blonde hair. He couldn't imagine being the one to deliver blows like this. Not over a woman. In no world could Yamato ever be his enemy. Not after they had been through so much on that long, treacherous road together.

What killed him the most was his lack of focus. Any other man would have sworn revenge for someone swooping in and stealing a woman from their hearts. But Taichi couldn't bring himself to think of Yamato as a rival in love. When had Yamato even mentioned a woman of his own? Never. Not once. While others spoke of their deeds with woman publicly and without shame, Yamato was completely ensconced in his world of music. In fact, as Taichi continued with his so-called training, all he could think about was the sun setting and the emptiness of the Yagami household without his dear friend. The eerie quietude of this lavish place without Yamato's grace made Taichi restless. Where was he? What was taking so long? With a loud crack, Taichi looked down at the broken _bokken_ in his hands. "Agh. And now I broke the _bokken_. Pops is going to kill me," he muttered, pacing around the dusty yard to collect the splinters of the training weapon.

He meandered back into his home, hoping he didn't look as miserable as he felt; he brought the broken piece in with him for mending, though he should have left them outside to throw out. His mind was steeped in confusion. It was as if his prior memories of Sora were being rewritten from the long days on the Tokaido. Though his heart could not help skipping a beat when he saw the short-haired girl, his brain immediately compared it to images of the beautiful boy who he had accompanied to Kyoto. She was lovely, of course, but his thoughts were now saturated with the dulcet tones of Yamato's koto, his voice, his laugh. The void made him more aware of smaller things he hadn't realized were catalogued in the depths of his recollections. His light footsteps. The graceful angles of his fingers. The nape of his neck.

The only thing he could do now was wait for Yamato to come back. They would talk. He would casually ask about the marriage proposal. He'd be stalwart and stoic, just as a warrior should be. And he would ignore the fact that he was more concerned about losing Yamato than losing Sora. The more he thought about it, the less concerned he was about not having a bride; the thought that kept jabbing at him was, _Will I still be able to sit with him? Will he still play the koto for me? Now that he's here, will he still want to stay with me?_

His thoughts were interrupted by a quick succession of knocks on the door. There was a pattern to it, one that he did not recognize. No one was in the house. Slowly coming back to reality, Taichi began a timeline in his mind. How long had his parents been out? How long had Yamato been out? He assumed Hikari would be at one of the temples or shrines for study, and he knew she would be safe as long as she remained there for a bit. He looked outside. The sun was still setting, and the point where the sky kissed the land was as red as blood. Steeling himself, he made his way to the door, clutching the broken pieces in hand. A blade was the weapon of choice in any scenario, but there was no need to waste a perfectly convenient wooden stake. Leaning against the wall near the door, he called out. "Hullo?"

"Yagami Taichi, correct?" came a steady voice from outside.

Taichi wanted to freeze, but knew that not opening the door was cause for trouble. He moved toward the door, nonchalantly sliding it open with his foot, cradling the large pieces of wood in his calloused hands as if he were going to throw them out. The flash of blue was enough to make him ignore the slender splinter that was ready to force its way through the skin of his palms. "Yes, that's me. How can I help?" he asked pleasantly, making sure that his posture was casual and non-aggressive.

The voice belonged to a boy about as short as Koushirou. He looked to be much younger; it was likely that this child was a prodigy, much like Taichi had been. A glance at the boy's perfect stance suggested that he was well-trained in kendo, and would be able to put up at least a decent sword fight if the situation called for it. His hair was kept in a strangely tidy bowl-shape, as if he had been born with a samurai helmet upon his scalp. He held a steady, unamused gaze forward, his mouth curled in a frown as he surveyed Taichi. "Your robes are an interesting shade of brown," remarked the boy in blue.

"Why thank you," Taichi said, checking his nail beds. "I find that it matches my hair pretty well. Looking for my old man?"

The quiet boy shook his head exactly once. "No. We were wondering if you received our message. It appears you have not."

Taichi knew what the next step would be. He heard the flash of steel before he saw it. Thinking on his feet, he threw the smaller remains of the bokken at the smaller boy, causing him to stumble, and followed with pushing one of the larger splinters into his arm. The moment was all he needed to draw Guren'imon from its hilt. He had it pointed to the boy's throat. There was no fear in the child's eyes; he was born into this life just as Taichi had before him. "Perhaps you should come inside," Taichi said slowly. "Wouldn't want you causing a scene."

The boy frowned, but nodded to acknowledge the invitation. Honor-bound, the two sheathed their blades and stepped inside. Taichi noticed that the boy did not stop to remove the piece of wood sticking out of his arm. "Please. Come and sit in the _chashitsu_. I'll get you some cloth to wrap that in, and then you can tell me all about your little visit," he said, not turning his back.

He led the boy into the house and back out to the private interior garden, where his mother's tea room was situated. He hoped that he wouldn't get in too much trouble by bringing someone in who was clearly about to kill him. Having blood spilled anywhere on those delicate mats would also be a bit of a burden. They climbed in through the _nijiriguchi _entrance; as expected, the crawl space was small enough that both boys had to remove their weapons before entering. Yagami Yuuko made sure that this was the only way people could enter her sacred tea room. The room was sparsely decorated, as usual. The _tokonoma_ scroll painting and flower arrangement in the center expressed sentiments about summer and the like; they were probably both done by Hikari, but Taichi could never understand these things. Never having paid much attention to his mother's charm classes, Taichi sprawled himself out on the floor and motioned for the stranger to sit down. "I don't really make tea," he said unapologetically. "So we'll make do. What's your name?"

The other samurai knelt down properly, taking an annoying moment to take in his settings. It was clear that this boy was of high ranking to know how to behave in a _chashitsu_. "This is a lovely tea room," he said after a long pause. "It is quite a shame that you don't acknowledge it. The lady of the house should be proud of her accomplishments."

"Cut to the chase," Taichi muttered. "What do you want from me?"

Shaking his head, the boy sighed and gave Taichi a hard look. "My name is Hida Iori. My father was Hida Hiroki. My grandfather is Hida Chikara. My family has served in the shogunate for generations, bowing to Toyotomi Hideyoshi, as your family has done. We have been called upon by the bakufu to join the Shinsengumi, you and I," Iori explained. "I did not realize that you had come back to Kyoto just recently. You should have received your uniform. Why have you not put it on? I was under strict orders to deliver punishment; not wearing the garment is as good as death."

"That's quite a bit to take in," Taichi said, still trying to remain casual. More importantly, he wanted to make it seem as if he knew nothing at all. The less he was involved in, the better it would be for certain parties who didn't quite know what was going on in Kyoto in the first place. He tossed Iori a roll of cloth. "Might want to take that out. I'm no doctor, but it looks painful."

Iori glanced down at the piece of _bokken_ lodged in his upper arm. He shrugged, which should have been painful, but he showed no signs of weakness. "It is better to keep this inside to prevent unnecessary bleeding. I would not want to taint this place of peace. I will request medical attention from our people when I can, though they will be asking questions, of course."

"Of course. In the meantime, then, you can answer some questions for me. It's as you said — it's been a long time since I've been in town. I was glad to see that my family was safe, but the rest of the city…it's desolate. What's happened since I was gone? I thought the shinsengumi were supposed to be elsewhere. I thought everything was done. My parents told me the capital was at Edo since we moved to Odaiba, but I'm afraid my information is a bit outdated."

"The shinsengumi are here to protect Kyoto, Taichi. The shogunate can't bear to see his people so desperate to look to…those outsiders. They don't belong here, Taichi. That's why we came back. That's why we need you," Iori said. "Mind, these are not my words. They came from somewhere above my station. I am simply doing what I believe is right, and that is following my family."

"Black and white, aren't you?" Taichi said, cracking his neck. He tried to hide a grin as Iori winced at the sickening sound. "I guess that makes sense, but it doesn't make much sense to me. What's going on that Kyoto needs all this policing?"

"Your father has already claimed his title as a Rebel, Taichi," Iori said quietly. "It should not take more than a moment to consider this fact. The blue haori should be nearby for you. I will spare your life today, as long as you don the colors of the shinsengumi. They say the tides threaten to change, but what the Loyalists don't realize is that our land is not an ocean. Our land is built from powerful mountains that cannot be moved. And we are here to protect our people from outsiders who think our land is theirs to take."

"That seems like a lot of responsibility. Besides, we haven't seen war since we were born. Some would say that's lucky. And anyway," Taichi thought aloud, "Doesn't it sound to you like we're making a war out of things ourselves? Maybe it's just me, but I'm not sure I like the idea of making a mess out of the world just because I'm out of a job."

The younger boy motioned to the _tokonoma_. The autumnal leaves were early for a depiction of summer, but they were probably painted to anticipate the arrival of fall. "I wonder…do these leaves symbolize the fall of our nation? It should not," he murmured. "You are a man of the sword, Yagami Taichi. This is your chance to take up arms and fight for the shogunate. This is what you were born to do. Please do not forget this. I will come by again tomorrow to make sure that you give us the right answer."

With a marked bow, Iori stood slowly, blood starting to seep from the wound in his arm. He gingerly crawled back out of the tea room, leaving Taichi to stew in his own thoughts.

—

Yamato and Marron had been journeying for what seemed to be ages when all sound seemed to dissipate into nothingness. Afraid that he had suddenly gone deaf, Yamato felt his flesh prickle with anxiety. His horse began to whip back and forth, trying to find the source of unrest. The trail seemed to go on and on; how high up had they climbed? _Perhaps it's time to go back,_ Yamato thought tersely. _But how do I get out? How? This place is a maze…_

As quickly as his apprehension came, the boy immediately became awash with calm. It was the same feeling he experienced when he found himself in the main chambers of Kuramadera. The change in mood was unexpected. He wondered for a moment if a part of him was drifting out of his body, watching and waiting for him to act. Marron, too, stopped moving his head, and continued trotting slowly as if drawn toward an unseen light.

Where were they? They had passed Honden moments ago, hadn't they? Or had they been traveling for minutes, hours, days? Dreamily, Yamato looked down. They stood before an intricate pattern drawn in the earth, the spirals greatly resembling the symbol on his _ema_, surrounded by a sun-like shape that burst into several rays around the centerpiece. Oddly, the sun-like shape looked a lot like the symbol on Taichi's _ema_. Upon thinking of the hot-headed boy, the calmness in Yamato's mind spread like honey to the rest of his being. He knelt there, completely at peace. He shut his eyes and lost himself in the silence. The music would have to come back at another time.

A boy with a face similar to his own watched from behind a massive tree trunk. He smiled knowingly and knelt down directly across from his elder brother. Without moving his lips, he thought aloud, knowing that his brother would hear him even without his voice. "Welcome home," he focused on the words drifting through the veins of the mountain.

Yamato was ready to whip his head up, but the voice in his head soothed him. "Steady, elder brother, steady. This is a place of peace."

Keeping his eyes shut, Yamato hoped that his thoughts would reach his brother in the same way. "Takeru? Takeru, is that you? I'm…I'm sorry, I don't think I quite know how this works. I just hope that you can hear me."

The sound of his younger brother's laughter echoed in his mind. Yamato found himself smiling, not caring that tears were now streaming down his cheeks. The last time he had heard this wonderful sound was when Takeru was just a sprout. "You're doing great, brother! I can hear you loud and clear. I'm glad you got my message! Did you meet my friend?"

"Hikari? Yes, I did! She was the one who led me here. Well, in a manner of speaking. She only mentioned it in passing, but…I had to come out here. I had to see you somehow. Are you well? Where is mother? I never knew where you went when you left…"

"You're welcome to join us, Yamato-nii-san," came Takeru's chipper response. "Open your eyes. I'm actually right in front of you, you know!"

Yamato did as he was told, and gasped when he saw how close Takeru was. Just a tree a way. For years, he had been apart from his younger brother. When was the last time he had seen him? Eons ago, when Takeru was just four. The last memory of his brother was distant, but it had become clear now that he was no longer a ghost of his past.

He remembered that the family was still struggling, what with their father being the way he was. But it did not stop their mother, Natsuko, from the mochitsuki ritual. Tired but cheerful, she had taken them both out in the snow, ready to pound the rice into the sticky sweet mochi, with a side of the azuki paste she had made beforehand. Takeru was still small and could barely carry the_ kine_ hammer. Yamato, eager to show off what it was like to be the big brother, tried to lift the _kine_ on his own, but ended up falling over since he did not have the upper arm strength for the task. Biting her lip, Natsuko realized the only way to get the rice pounded was to ask Hiroaki. He was already at the door, turning his nose up at the weakness his boys were displaying, but said nothing as he went on pounding the rice. Wordlessly, Natsuko shifted the rice in between blows, making sure that the rice remained even. After some time, the rice was ready. As a family, they cooked it over a flame, set aside two for the usual divine offering to the gods, and ate in peace.

This was the last memory Yamato had of his mother and his brother. The next day, they were gone. He suspected that Natsuko wanted to leave Takeru with that same warm memory. Takeru must have been too young to have been affected, but Yamato remembered the confusion and anger when his mother left with his brother. Hadn't they proved that they could still be a family? At the time, Yamato was only six. There was no way he could have understood his mother's motives. Now, at seventeen, more than ten years later, he believed he had a better idea of why she chose that night to run away from the Ishida household.

"You've grown so much," Yamato said, choking back a sob. "You're…you must be fifteen now."

It wasn't a very sentimental statement, but Yamato was at a loss for words. His fingers itched to play his brother a song, but he couldn't bring himself to move. Here was something that was more important than music: family. With a strangled cry, he stood up and embraced his younger brother. "I've missed you," he gasped. "I can't believe you're here. I came all this way, not knowing what I would find, who I would meet, and…and here you are."

Takeru smiled up at his brother. He was still growing, but Yamato was still a bit taller. Perhaps it wouldn't be for long. "I'm so happy you decided to go with Taichi," he said, patting his brother on the back gently. "He's a good man. Hikari told me all about him, and I've been thanking Kwannon that he's been keeping you safe, just as I'd asked."

Puzzled, Yamato looked at his brother after drying his tears. "What do you mean by that?"

With a chuckle, Takeru motioned to the mountain, the leaves, and the path. They were completely surrounded by nature here. "I'm sure you've noticed, but this is a place with a lot of spiritual energy. I could feel you moving away from Odaiba, and toward me. I prayed every day and every night, for hours on end, that you'd be safe. It makes sense for me to assume that Kwannon heard me and thought it would be best to keep you alive," he said, taking his brother's hand. "Anyway, I'm sure you want to see mother. She's been meditating for the whole day, hoping you'd find your way to us."

Nervously, Yamato nodded. Takeru led him to the small hut hat he had seen in his dreams. He wasn't sure how he'd react when he saw his mother. In his mind, she was the one who took Takeru away, who left him with his father. Hiroaki hadn't taken kindly to the disappearance of his wife and youngest son, and had taken it out on Yamato for some time. He had left the Ishida household shortly after Hiroaki announced that Yamato would be promised to a Takenouchi Sora. It was a whole year before he escaped his father's hand. He'd told Taichi that he left the night right after his mother and Takeru did, but that was because he didn't want to reveal the painful parts of his history. Taking a deep breath, he remembered the image of Kwannon, who would want him to remain steadfast, patient, and forgiving.

"Yamato," said a soft, tearful voice from inside the modest hut. "My goodness…my beautiful boy. How you've grown."

The family was together again, and the absence of the father was not mentioned and unnecessary. Natsuko was still lovely, despite the years adding a few more lines to her face. She dressed simply, and her lithe form showed that she ate sparingly, living a life somewhere in between that of a Buddhist nun and, possibly, a madwoman. But there was no madness in her eyes. Just the affection of a mother who regained a son.

"Mother," Yamato croaked. The three of them sat together on the floor of the dusty hut, held together by a desperate embrace.

They talked for hours, recalling the few memories they had together and making promises to create new ones. Yamato noticed the sun beginning to set and gasped. "Oh, no! I'm very sorry…I can't deny the Yagamis their hospitality. I told them I'd only be out for a little while. And…to be honest, I didn't even know where to put the note. They might be worried."

Natsuko smiled and gave her son another hug. "You're free to visit us here any time."

"Will you tell me why you both came here instead of living in the city next time?"

"Yes, I will," Natsuko promised. "I'm glad you saved that discussion for later. You see, Takeru has been having more visions lately. Violent ones that involve the world down below this mountain. We wanted you here so you could be safe for a little while."

Yamato blinked. "Wh…what do you mean? Safe? Is something happening in Kyoto?" His thoughts immediately went to Taichi. Though he knew the big-haired boy was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, the tone in his mother's voice made the danger sound immediate.

"Yamato-nii-san," Takeru said sadly. "The world out there is messed up, really bad. It's changing in so many ways. It's not safe anymore. Be careful when going back, okay? You stand out a bit too much. No offense."

"Will Taichi be all right?" Yamato asked, unsure if his brother would know the answer.

Natsuko stood up and touched her older son's shoulder tenderly. "Taichi is lucky to have someone like you, Yamato," she said with a small smile. She glanced down and saw that Yamato had a wakizashi strapped to him, with a small bell charm hanging from it. "That bell is a precious treasure. Keep that safe, and I'm sure your Taichi will also be safe."

Nodding without understanding, Yamato unconsciously put a hand to the bell charm once more. It felt warm and familiar, and brought back memories of the first time he had met Yagami Taichi. Returning the smiles of his family serenely, Yamato bowed out of the hut. "I'll return again soon. I'm so happy to have found you both. Please stay safe, and I'll do anything I can to help make sure of that."

Yamato exited the hut and prepared Marron for travel. He seemed well-fed and cheerful; Yamato assumed that Takeru must have helped while he spoke with their mother. Grateful for his family, his horse, and his dear friend who brought him to Kyoto, Yamato set out to return to the Yagami household. He knew in his heart that Taichi would be safe, and he prayed that his family would do the same.

—

The light-blue haori still lay crumpled in Taichi's closet. He looked at it with a sneer. The pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together, and he was not fond of the picture it was painting. So his parents had joined the shinsengumi this whole time. They were full-blown rebels. Koushiro's warning seemed a lifetime away…the fact that Loyalists were coming after Rebels was alarming. At the time, he'd believed the Yagami family was taking a stance firmly planted in between the Loyalists and the Rebels. The shinsengumi uniform on his door and the Hida boy's visit claimed otherwise.

He was in a trickier position than he had initially thought. The fact that the shinsengumi were resuming their posts "policing" Kyoto meant that the city was not safe for the likes of Yamato, who was clearly a neutral party. This was now a city where if you were not with one, you were assumed to be with the other. How would he keep Yamato clearly neutral? He didn't want the boy involved with Loyalist scuffles, and he surely didn't want him to be at the sword point of a shinsengumi interrogation. With a heavy groan, he thumped his head against the wall, slumping down onto the wooden floor in frustration. "He should have just stayed in Odaiba, like I told him to," he moaned to himself.

"Who should have stayed where?" came Hikari's voice from the door of his room. "I just got back from Kodaiji. The priests said that things had gotten a bit rough here. Are you all right?"

"Of course I am," sniffed Taichi. "Were mom and dad with you?"

"No. They left earlier than I did," Hikari replied, letting herself in and sitting on the floor near her brother. She glanced at the closet, the light-blue of the haori catching her eye. "Oh, you're…you're not joining them, are you?"

Taichi slinked over to the closet and kicked the door closed. "Not in a million years. I think dad might have put that in here," he growled. "No one else could have. And we had a visitor, too."

"Father? That…that can't be right. Are you certain?"

"No, but it's like I said: who else could have gotten ahold of that? Dad. Just dad. He's the big samurai here, the war hero from the golden days. Our family's still too prominent in the shogunate. Tokugawa still trusts him with his life. No wonder dad was offered the opportunity to join the shinsengumi," Taichi continued. "Someone actually sent a kid here to see if I got the message. Someone named Hida Iori."

Hikari gasped, suddenly looking very worried. "Hida? Not the same ones who follow Kondou Isami?"

Taichi shrugged. The name sounded familiar, but being out on the road for so long, there was only so much information that was reliable. Leave it to his sister to know more about the current news than he did. Besides, he'd only been back for a day.

"Kondou recently became a hatamoto. He's very, very close to the shogun now. It's no wonder he's become one of the commanders of the shinsengumi," Hikari said after making sure they would not be heard. She bit on her thumb worriedly. "The Hida family has worked with the Kondou family for some time. Like our family, they've been samurai for generations. With the arrival of the black ships, I suppose it's no wonder that they're all back now, but…well, it certainly explains why Kyoto has been so desolate, and why the priests have been keeping us in class for longer periods of time. I should have known."

Grinning though feeling grim, Taichi sat up, shoulders hunched. "Yeah, yeah. I'm really glad you pay attention to this stuff. I mean — wait, is this what you learn at the temple? If that's the case, then I should really stop by more often."

"Kido-san would both appreciate and abhor that, I'm sure."

"Jyou would love it and you know it."

"To answer your question, onii-san: no, I don't learn it from school. I just listen to the people who come and go. Parents who pick up their children. Passersby talking on the road. Travelers pretending that they aren't actually important officials. Oh, don't give me that look — there's no need to worry. I know how to take care of myself. I always make sure that my face is disguised or that I'm just out to tend to some crops. That's how I get to know so much."

"You sure you're not a ninja? A kunoichi that mom and dad don't know about? I'm sure at least one of them would be proud," Taichi said, trying not to show how thoroughly impressed he was with his sister's skill set (he certainly didn't want to be one-upped as soon as he got back home). "But really, I'm more concerned about your safety. Knowledge like this sounds like it's way too dangerous to talk about outside. I'm surprised that anyone would talk about it so freely."

Hikari shrugged. "It's amazing what people let slip when they don't care who's around. Or when they don't think the person is worth their time."

"Well, they're idiots. And it's good that you're an excellent listener. Now I don't feel like I'm in the dark so much," Taichi remarked. "Actually…hang on a second. Is there any reason you do this aside from curiosity's sake? Surely mom and dad would have said something to you, right?"

The siblings were quiet for a moment. The answer was clear: their parents had been keeping things from their children. That was the only odd thing about being back: Taichi's room was still a mess despite him only being back for a day. He had dumped the remains of the broken _bokken_ on the floor, and his robes were strewn about in random directions. The shinsengumi uniform, of course, still lay in a crumpled heap from his closet. The only thing that were neatly placed was Guren'imon, which hung proudly from the wall for easy access. The two of them looked at the wall separating Taichi's room from the guest room where Yamato was staying.

"Where is your guest?" Hikari finally asked.

"Mount Kurama. I'm assuming he'll be back sometime today. He didn't leave a note or anything."

"Ah. So it sounds like he went looking for his brother," she said casually, rising from the floor. "I hope he made good time. I wish he would have stuck around for at least one of us, though. It was silly to go off on his own when he doesn't know the city."

Taichi regarded his younger sister carefully. Narrowing his eyes, he rose at the same time, crossing his arms like a disgruntled child. "Hey. You know something, don't you? How did you know what Yama's last name was? And…and how come he was able to see the same dream as me? Don't tell me you don't know, because it was pretty clear that you were acting creepy."

"Oh, excuse you! I was not acting creepy. I was just observing," she said. "And anyway, the resemblance between Takeru and Yamato-san was extremely clear. When I 'disappeared' the other day, I was just visiting Yamato-san's family. They live in that little hut in the mountains. They're very lovely people, the two of them."

"Hikari, you can't seriously think it's okay to go around on your own with all this talk of the shinsengumi! It's not safe and I can't believe you did that. You were gone for…a while, from what I understand. It's no wonder mom and dad went all out with the welcoming party. Well," Taichi thought, furrowing his brow as he was both angry and curious but didn't know which to serve first, "Except for the blue clothes. And at least you're safe. But…argh. Still! Still, Hikari, that was really foolish. You could have been seriously hurt and no one would have known."

Hikari set about straightening her brother's room. "That is not true. You saw and heard me when I went to visit you in your dreams. The spiritual energy at Mount Kurama has always been extremely strong. I think, when we were in Odaiba before, something happened to both you and Yamato-san that made the energy exchange even stronger. I'd never even felt the presence of Takeru and Natsuko-san until you and your friend were on that road.

Clearly, the Tokaido is still a dangerous place. But I'm guessing that something must have happened that allowed you and Yamato-san to form a strong, spiritual bond, which would explain why I was able to meet his brother and mother when I hadn't been able to before. Think, onii-chan. Did anything happen to the both of you before embarking upon your journey?"

Wordlessly, he reached into his robes and pulled out the _ema_ with the symbol for courage and the sun on it. Hikari raised it closer to her after a nod of permission from her brother and made a sound of understanding. "Ah. So, Yamato-san must have one too, yes? And I think I remember seeing the bell with him as well," Hikari said, giving the small wooden piece back. "You're quite taken with him, aren't you?"

Blushing, Taichi looked away. "None of your business. And anyway, yes, this odd wind sort of…blew. It happened sometime back in the spring during the flower viewing in Odaiba. There wasn't really anyone to show this to until I got home, so…that's why I didn't mention it," he said. "Hikari…this is going to be a dumb question, but is the Floating World anything similar to the spirit world?"

Hikari quickly put a hand to her mouth, clearly trying not to laugh at her brother's lack of knowledge. After a moment of restraint, she took a deep breath and shook her head. "To be honest, I can't think of much that would cross over between the two. The Floating World is what mother and father always warn against. It's the world where pleasure-seekers go to; wine, women, and song. The spirit world…well, you can imagine the difference. It's where you go to when you want to leave things behind and be one with the spirits instead."

Feeling defensive, Taichi grunted, unsure of what to say. He knew that his sister was starting to connect the dots, but didn't feel any glances of judgment. That was one of the best things about her; she wasn't the type of person to disregard anyone's feelings. He knew that Yamato was a creature of the Floating World. If the two were so different, how could it be possible for him to have the dreams that led him to Mount Kurama? Just looking at the young man, one would never be able to peg him as someone who indulged himself. Was it such a crime to create beauty instead of consuming it? At that moment, he wondered if enjoying the time spent with Yamato meant that he was the one indulging.

It was obvious to Hikari that her brother was not feeling well. After tidying up a bit more, she knelt down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Onii-chan. Let me try and think of it another way. But please, be frank about your feelings. What's going on in that head of yours under all that hair?"

He couldn't help but grin. Ruffling Hikari's hair, Taichi stood up to stretch. "I'll be honest, Hikari. I really have no idea what's going on. Earlier today I was doing my best to get angry at Yama. I overheard Sora saying that he's the guy she's betrothed to, which, y'know, isn't the best news to hear."

"Ah, yeah. I remember that you were never very clever about hiding your feelings for Sora-san."

"Don't remind me. Anyway…so…I tried. I really tried. By the way, that's the story behind the broken _bokken_, but let's not tell dad that story," he paced around to the other side of the room, looking outside the window. The sun was very close to setting now, and Yamato was still not back. "But I couldn't. I couldn't stop thinking about him. Hikari, I've…been having these dreams."

"Please don't enlighten me if they're of a…er…private nature. I love you, brother, but not enough to warrant talk about your love life…"

"Hikari! Please! No, okay, they _weren't_ those kinds of dreams," he lied, "But other kinds of dreams. You know he's an Ishida. Once, I dreamt that he was meant to be a retainer. My retainer. The person who would walk with me for as long as we both lived. But you've seen him. He's not a warrior. He's a musician. And I could never explain how or why that dream was so intense, why it left my heart beating as if I'd swam from Edo to Kyoto without stopping. I felt…I feel…connected to him. Like we're bound and I don't know why, but at the same time, I don't care why. I know it sounds crazy…"

Hikari shook her head, squeezing his shoulder gently. "No, it doesn't sound crazy. The spirits on Mount Kurama talk about this all the time. Mostly, humans don't understand it. That's why they attribute so much to our errors. They think it's funny and sad that we have what we need in front of us almost all the time. But the moment someone says something is not normal, that something isn't right, that's when we push them away. I've already accepted that some of the things I've learned may not be true tomorrow or five years from now; that's how transient things are, and I think that's just how it is. But dreams and visions of bonds like that are special. It's how spirits find each other, you see."

"Um. Are you trying to tell me that Yama and I aren't real?"

"No, onii-chan. Don't be silly. You're still human. You just need to accept and acknowledge that Yamato-san is most likely your soulmate. How else would you explain coming all the way here without dying? You said yourself, he isn't a warrior, and yet he's survived. You've survived. And I'm willing to bet that you feel when something is off. You're not worried about him now, truly, because you know he's coming back soon. If you were really concerned for his life, you wouldn't be here. You'd be out looking for him. From what you've told us since you've been back, that's how it's been while out on the Tokaido."

Soulmate. The thought made Taichi feel like the breath had been extracted from his lungs and replaced with a more vibrant substance, one that felt warmer and more alive. He felt the heat in his cheeks, but for once, decided it was natural. Yamato may be a part of the Floating World, but he floated straight to Taichi, and the samurai was in no position to complain.

A rap at the door made the Yagami siblings startle. The sun had almost set completely, and the torches were supposed to be lit by now. Hikari took the liberty of lighting a candle, walking into the main room behind her brother. They exchanged a look. Neither of them knew who to expect. The best case scenario would be their parents and Yamato returning from their activities. The worst case, of course, would mean that the shinsengumi were back earlier than planned. Anything in between could be taken care of by Taichi and Guren'imon, but they both knew that if the Rebels were involved, they would come with a battalion. They didn't take kindly to refused invitations.

The knock continued. With bated breath, Taichi crept up to the door, ready to draw his sword. He nudged his foot against the door and let it slide open slowly.

The blonde hair was a dead giveaway. Sighing with relief, Taichi pulled Yamato in by the scruff of his kimono and bopped him on the head. "You idiot!" he hissed. "Where were you?! We thought you were dead or someone out to kill us or something…worse…like a ghost!"

"We didn't think you were a ghost at all," Hikari corrected, leading them into the main building.

Noting the whispering and overall suspiciousness, Yamato kept quiet until the three of them were in a room well into the mansion. This room had no windows, and they had somehow come up in elevation. Amazed, he looked through the thin wooden slats and realized they were situated right above the dining table. Hikari grabbed a heavy-looking piece of wood and fitted it over the open areas. "It makes this part sound-proof," she explained in a normal-volume voice.

"I apologize for not saying anything," Yamato began. "I wasn't sure if anyone was here…it was dark, nothing was lit, and I didn't want to cause a scene. My family…they…they told me to be careful."

Taichi looked up and smiled from ear to ear. "You found them, huh? Your brother and your mom?"

Yamato just nodded; now wasn't the time to talk about how happy he was, and he was afraid he'd cry again. The Yagamis made it quite clear that the situation in Kyoto was much more serious than he knew about. He sat at attention, looking from Taichi to Hikari. "Yes…but, please. What is going on? I know it isn't safe; I just don't know why."

Taichi gave a quick run down of the dangers that they had unknowingly come back to. Kyotoites were in danger of being confused for Loyalists and Rebels. Safety was not guaranteed anywhere; the light-blue of the shinsengumi Rebels were keen to cut down anyone who claimed that the emperor should regain power from the shogunate. They had to strategize and figure out how to keep each other safe, especially since Taichi was not planning on donning their uniform. On top of that, their parents were still missing, and night had already fallen.

Eager to learn of what they would do next, Yamato sat patiently and waited for instruction; the two of them, however, remained very, very still. The slab of wood kept their conversation within the small room, but when everything was still, even Yamato could hear someone else knocking on the door. The three of them shared a terse look. They foolishly forgot that their parents wouldn't have to knock on the door of their own home.

* * *

><p><strong>Notes:<strong>

1. Ooyamatsumi is an elder brother of Amaterasu; he rules mountains, sea, and war. He is the kami, or god, of Mt. Fuji.  
>2. Another shout out to when I lived in this area…the centipedes are really dangerous! If you get bittenstung/whatever they do to you, get medical attention immediately!  
>3. A note on shrines and temples: I try not to get confused with these, but it's very easy to do so when writing in English. Shrines are Shinto; temples are Buddhist. If I remember correctly, HondenKurama-dera is a Buddhist temple. It's also been years since I've been there. I can't remember if Kurama-dera is the entire mountain, or if it's the main shrine (Honden literally means "main shrine", which is why I'm a bit rusty).  
>4. Tigers guard Honden at Kurama instead of dogs. It is said that Bishamonten, a Buddhist deity, saved a monk from a devil during a Tiger month, a Tiger day, and a Tiger hour. Pretty lucky, in terms of Asian time-telling. Since then, the tiger has been seen as a messenger of Bishamonten at Mt. Kurama. The hour of the tiger is around 3-5am; January is the month of the tiger; and depending on when it started, the tiger day is every 12 days from the cycle start. Kurama is known as the birthplace of Reiki meditation, so that's where this particular history stems from.<br>5. Yamato had his little "moment" at Sojoga-dani Fudo-do, which is more of a hike up Mt. Kurama.  
>6. To be honest, I personally can't even think about hitting anything with a bokken. Those things are heavy! But they are meant to act as training swords. In kendo, you use a lightweight bamboo sword called a shinai, which doesn't hurt nearly as much as a strike from a bokken.<br>7. Tea rooms (chashitsu) in Japan were often outside. The nijiriguchi was a small opening that you would crawl into, meant to both separate you from the busy outside world and also to disarm samurai before coming in.  
>8. The shinsengumi were active from 1864-1869. They were a force created by the bakufu (the Tokugawa government) to rally the forces and quell the Loyalists. Their rebellion marked its end with the Boshin civil war, though some kept fighting on even after the fall of Edo and the total defeat of the Tokugawa.<br>9. Mochitsuki often takes place during the new year. Two of the rice cakes that are made are set aside as divine offerings for the new year. The kine is the hammer-like object used to pound the rice - it's actually really, really heavy. But I also have noodles for arms, so hey.  
>10. Kondou Isami was one of the commanders of the shinsengumi. By July 10th, 1867 (a few months before this particular chapter takes place), he became a hatamoto to the shogun.<br>11. Hatamoto means "under the banner". This was a rank given to samurai who were under the direct service of the Tokugawa shogunate. During the Edo period, they were seen as upper vassals to the shogunate - they were sort of like high-ranking officers, and some were given the right to a personal audience with the shogun if their rank was high enough.  
>12. A kunoichi is a female practitioner of ninjutsu. The way it's written is also kind of cool. Ku is in hiragana; no is in katakana; and ichi is in kanji. They're meant to represent the three strokes necessary to create the character "onna", or "woman" in kanji.<br>13. Interesting note on samurai houses: they are totally different from ninja houses. Samurai homes are built to mess ninjas up and vice versa. I've decided that the Yagami household has a mix of both characteristics. The upper room they confer in is a secret addition; from the bottom floor, it's disguised to look like nothing is there but decorative woodwork (think the railing of a bunk bed that keep you from falling over). A person could hide up there and listen to a conversation from below.


	11. Chapter 11: Warriors of the Half-Moon

**Ukiyo ~ Floating World  
>Chapter Eleven: Warriors of the Half-Moon<strong>

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Digimon, but if I did, I would totally have them just change the canon.  
><strong>Author's Notes<strong>**:** Yes! Another chapter in pretty good time! I have notes to finish this within about 4-5 chapters, so stay tuned. I realized that I've been flip-flopping with the names in terms of honorifics, but going forward, I'll be using the Japanese suffixes and I'll describe them in the footnotes. Reviews are always welcome. Enjoy!

* * *

><p>The moon was a bright and desirable companion that evening, despite the need for secrecy. It was difficult to go about nonchalantly when the so-called peace makers were roaming about, looking to cut down any living creature that did not swear their loyalties to the shogun over the emperor. The moon, at least, didn't care for the needs of the humans below it; it simply continued to shine. Kido Jyou knelt down in his sparse room at Kodaiji Temple, trying to focus on the slivers of <em>maki-e<em> that swirled into the main hallway. It was better to do that instead of constantly worrying that a shinsengumi would come through the door for an unwarranted interrogation. To think, a temple financed by Tokugawa Ieyasu himself would become a place of hiding from those hired by the current Tokugawa shogunate! The thought was dizzying, leaving the already paranoid Jyou even more harried than before. The moon was comforting in the fact that it was constant in its changes, unlike Japan.

A succession of light knocks on the window startled the blue-haired young man. He bit on his thumb to keep himself from yelping, calmly reminding himself that the code was meant for Koushiro, Taichi, or Hikari to identify themselves. The temple was very quiet; visitors weren't allowed in at night, and Jyou thanked his lucky stars that his friends were among the stealthiest (Taichi was sometimes a problem, but for the most part he could remain quiet when necessary). Checking to make sure no one was awake, Jyou crept over to the window and opened it fully. It was Koushiro.

With a heavy sigh, he gestured to allow the boy to come in. "Look, I know it's not worth saying, but it is _really frightening_ to get a knock on the door this late, you know? I know, I know, there's no other way for you to come in, but still…one would hope that we'd have something a little more peaceful in this day and age, but _no_, we had to have all this nonsense happen here in Japan…"

Koushiro chuckled and patted the young man on the shoulder. "You did the right thing in staying with the temple, Jyou," he said with a weak smile. "It's gotten…a bit dramatic on the samurai side."

Scoffing, Jyou began making tea for his guest. "You don't have to tell me twice. When it's happening just outside the temple, well, it's terrible! It's very clear that no one knows who's wanted here, because everyone just keeps killing everyone else for no good reason."

The samurai sat still, his dark eyes focusing on one spot in the room. Whenever he wasn't sure of what to do, he would choose a spot and stare at it until his mind was clear. He was used to the priest going off on a limb and thinking of the craziest conspiracy theories, wondering how he should prepare (truly, he was one of the least peaceful priests Koushiro had ever known). The trouble was that this time, Jyou was at least half-right. The Loyalists, who were eager to go forward with modernization, were terrorizing the Tokaido and many other parts of Japan. The Rebels, and especially the shinsengumi, were doing the same, though they were vehemently against change. The result was a multitude of bloody, meaningless battles, and Koushiro feared that civil war was at the brink of existence. He was unsure of how to comfort the anxious young man. He wasn't even sure of how he could comfort himself.

"We'll be killed if we don't do anything, isn't that right?" Jyou asked softly, pouring the tea. His brow was furrowed with concern. "And here you are…doing all this fighting. Doing something. But it's something that we're not sure will even help."

"Jyou, don't say that. We mustn't lose hope. In the event of an emergency, the Yagami household has entrusted you to the escape routes and tending to the wounded. You are skilled at both of these things, whether you'd like to admit it or not. We rely on you, Jyou. If you can be strong, we'll keep fighting until we can finally stop."

Koushiro's words resonated with Jyou. The blue-haired young man took a deep breath through his nostrils, exhaling sharply from the mouth. He repeated this exercise three more times. This was by far one of the most useful lessons Jyou had learned from being a priest at the temple; mindfulness of one's breathing. It was also the exercise he had to remember to use, which was problematic when one was supposed to be a pillar of calmness. Trying not to sigh, he looked at his red-headed friend. "I understand. I'll be here when you and the Yagamis need me. I can't bear the thought of my friends getting slaughtered like cattle. There's nothing I can do about those worries," he remarked, passing Koushiro the cup.

"I know, Jyou. We'll do what we can to make sure that you won't have to do it unless you absolutely have to. I'm fighting for a world of peace."

Jyou looked out the window. The moon was brighter than usual. It cast light over everything in the distance as if it were the sun itself. "Koushiro," he said. "Who do you fight? Who are we fighting? The Loyalists, the Rebels? Both? Neither?"

The small samurai adjusted his robes. It was not the light-blue of the shinsengumi, which made Jyou feel a little better, but not by much. "To be honest, if I had to side with anyone, I'd have to side with the Loyalists. I do not believe that Japan should stay ignorant from the rest of the world. Look at what Oda Nobunaga had done. He brought in better weaponry, allowing us to fight harder during the sengoku period. He began the unification process of Japan with this technology.

But it's as I said: too much blood has been spilled, and for no reason. I want to learn more about the world, but I do not care for the art of war as much as my ancestor had. If I were faced with a life or death choice, I would choose whatever I had to do in order to remain alive. It is cowardly and against the way of the samurai, but I feel that we have been placed on this world to do more than fight. There is so much out there that we don't know about, and I want to be a part of an intellectual revolution that I believe will come with time."

Chuckling nervously, Jyou set the tea pot down before the rattling woke the others. "Not a very clear statement, I suppose, but it's one nonetheless. I believe you, Koushiro. Just don't get yourself killed. Do me a selfish favor and make it so that I won't have to find your body bleeding out somewhere one of these days."

"I can't promise you that, Jyou, but I swear to do my best," Koushiro replied kindly. "Now, before I forget, I've come here with news. It is unfortunate, but we haven't heard back from the Yagamis yet. They had reported to spy on the Rebels for us, but it has been a day and they have not replied to any of our coded messages. We fear that something may have happened to them."

Looking up in alarm, Jyou gulped. A pained expression came over him, and he looked away to hide this. "No. Why on earth did they volunteer for such a dangerous mission?"

"They just got Taichi back. They didn't want him involved. But my sources say that Hida Iori has visited the Yagami household, threatening to slay Taichi if he didn't have an answer for them by midnight tonight."

"But that's only in a few hours!"

"My point exactly. We'll need to extract them from the Yagami manor."

"Them? But who else is there?"

"Hikari-san, and the koto player, Yamato-san."

"They can't possibly be equipped for the routes that we'd had set up for years," complained Jyou. "Well, Hikari might, but not the newcomer. He's not even a warrior. He's probably no more useful than I am!"

"I understand, but we can't just leave them behind because they're not trained. Survival doesn't allow for such luxuries," Koushiro said with a sigh. "In any case, if worse comes to worse, we'll have to rescue those who are currently in Yagami manor, and we must devise a plan to rescue the Lady Yagami and Yagami-sama."

Jyou wrung his hands. Keeping calm was no longer an option for him. In his mind, the worst was already here, and his friends were in the thick of it. Swallowing hard, he prayed that Kwannon would give him the grace to carry on with the tasks with which had had been entrusted. He did not have to fight; all he would do is tend to the wounded and help people escape. But that action in itself could be seen as fighting to anyone who was thirsty for blood. He knew he might die, but he also knew that his role was just as important as those who took up arms.

Together, the young men meditated, breathing in through the nose, and out through the mouth. Peace within themselves was something only they could achieve, and it was in their best interests to be as calm as they could with the coming hours. After that, peace would be a thing of dreams past once again.

* * *

><p>An eternity seemed to pass as the three waited for the strangers to make their way into the main hall. Their secret room was situated just before the entrance. They hoped that these people were not wearing masks so that they would be easily identifiable. Yamato wanted to scream; the tension was so high that he was afraid he would pass out without a means of expelling his terror. He felt his veins go numb when he heard the footsteps cross the threshold.<p>

It was impossible to see since it was dark, but one of the figures had brought a lantern with them. Once it was lit, the trio huddled together, trying to get a closer look. As soon as the lantern swung left and right, however, the light-blue of the robes became obvious. The shinsengumi had arrived, and they were armed. The lantern was passed to a young, serious-looking boy, whose hair made a perfect dome over his head. _So Hida wasn't kidding when he said I had until tomorrow_, Taichi thought grimly. _It's probably midnight by the looks of it. Really on time, this one…_

There was no time to deliver any information to his sister or his companion. He wasn't sure how he could tell them when the shinsengumi were there, probably listening for any signs of life in the house. He heard them breaking into rooms without a care, yelling "clear" when they acknowledged that no one was in the room. Taichi wasn't afraid for himself; his samurai training had dispelled all thoughts of that nature. But he was afraid for two the innocents in the room. He couldn't bear the thought of either of them coming to any harm. He held onto both of their hands tightly, hoping the thoughts in his mind would transfer to them somehow. _Stay safe. Please stay safe. You're both important to me. I'm sorry that I got you into this mess_, he thought, shutting his eyes and hoping to Kwannon that his message would reach them.

"No one is in the room. The garment remains on the closet floor," Iori reported from the direction of Taichi's room. He wondered why he didn't just stow the damned thing under a mat, but there was very little that would escape the attention of a shinsengumi officer. It would have been suspicious enough that Taichi wasn't in his home at this time of night. That would have been enough to warrant a more thorough search on their part.

Cursing inwardly, Taichi evaluated his options. His main goal was to keep the two of them safe. He wished he could give them a better explanation, but there was no way he could have. He should have told them something, anything beforehand. Foolishly, he was overcome with relief that Yamato was safe. By doing so, he had put Yamato's and Hikari's lives in danger. He should have said something. But it was too late now. He swallowed hard, steeling himself for what he was about to do. He looked at Hikari, hoping that her own personal training would keep herself and Yamato safe. She knew how to defend herself, and she had proven to be extremely clever in times of hardship.

His gaze lingered on Yamato. The young man's delicate features were skewed with lines of worry, uncertainty, and fear. Taichi hated that he had brought the harsh reality of the world upon someone so pure in such a short amount of time. All he wanted to do was protect this person; all he knew was that he would do anything to keep Ishida Yamato out of harm's way. But he would make it right. He was a samurai. He stood for honor, obedience, duty, and self-sacrifice. His loyalty did not remain with unruly politics, but with those he held dear.

There was little time to think, and now was the time to act. Taking a deep breath, Taichi rose slowly, careful not to make as sound. He was ready to reveal himself. He would allow the shinsengumi to take him, question him, and perhaps try to make him into one of them. It would not be a pleasant event in any case, but at least it would give Hikari and Yamato enough time to escape.

A tinkling sound caught Taichi's attention. It had also caused the shinsengumi to stop and listen as well. They were back at the threshold, pointing outside. Squinting, Taichi could make out the red beak-like nose of a Tengu. Was it is his imagination, or was it dancing around, causing a distraction for them? Could this be the same Tengu at Kotonomama Hachimanguu? There was little time to waste, and he motioned for Hikari and Yamato to follow him out through a secondary crawl space in the secret room.

Just as they were about to exit, Jyou had come out of that same crawl space and into the room. He had to stifle a sound of surprise, as he hadn't realized they were already there and ready to escape. Hurriedly, he made a motion to shoo them out of the manor. Taichi was still looking out through the slits of the secret room, trying to get another glance at the Tengu, but the priest was adamant about getting them out at this very instant. There was no time to waste, of course, but Taichi couldn't help but wonder what the Tengu was doing here at this very instant. He thanked the gods and hoped that this meant that they were on his side for the time being.

They followed the crawl space into another secret room, spilling them out of the manor and into the open garden at the tail end. The tea room was undisturbed, and for a moment Taichi had lost his bearings. He looked to Jyou, pointing at the tea room, asking whether or not this was the escape route. It made sense for him to hide in a place where no one would expect you, especially with a crawl space so small that weapons could not be taken in. Jyou shook his head quickly and gestured to another secret panel hidden in the gates.

Within moments, the four of them had successfully made their way out of Yagami manor. They didn't dare to look back to see if the shinsengumi were still hanging about, and they ran, following Jyou to what they assumed was another secret location. They hid in the shadows, careful to look out before moving. The place was close to Kodaiji Temple, but not close enough to make for a quick escape. Jyou had to bring them further north; the safest place they could be was a three-hour walk to Mount Kurama, but for now, a 30-minute jaunt to Yasaka shrine was ideal. They could hide among the cherry trees of Maruyama, and Jyou had made sure of which sections of the shrine were empty at certain points of the day. It was an ideal location that was meant to throw the shinsengumi off their trail; at this point, they hoped the police would be convinced that Taichi had turned toward the Loyalists and was headed for the palace. The north eastern direction, he hoped, would give them enough time to lose the boys in blue.

Yamato did not struggle in following the three capable Kyotoites. For being a musician, he had proven time and time and again that he was fit enough to follow Taichi, who was enjoying the peak of his physical career. He did not ask questions, but his throat was choked with trepidation. The Tokaido had been a breeze compared to this. Neither he nor Taichi were specific targets of the attackers on the road. But here, it was very clear that Taichi was the one these blue-clad men were after, and he wasn't entirely sure why or how this had happened. Takeru and his mother were right to warn him before coming back here. He understood then that they had let him go back despite the dangers because he wanted to keep Taichi safe. Even if they had asked him to stay at Mount Kurama, there was no way he could have done that. Not after Taichi had done so much for him. He felt connected to the samurai, right down to the core of his being. The words his mother said before he had left resounded in his mind. _That bell is a precious treasure. Keep that safe, and I'm sure _your_ Taichi will also be safe. _He clutched the tiny bell protectively, thinking only of Taichi, as they ran for their lives.

* * *

><p>Koushiro was expecting them in one of the well-hidden interior rooms of Yasaka shrine. He was careful to choose a room with a <em>wadokei<em> clock. It was a little past the hour of the rat; midnight had come and gone. It was amazing how quickly time could pass for one individual, and then be as slow as molasses for another. Koushiro felt like he had been waiting eons for his comrades to get to the checkpoint safely.

The door had a quick succession of knocks. To a regular person, they would be indistinguishable, but the samurai knew his priestly friend very well and could decipher his knocks full of worry. Breathing a sigh of relief, he stood up and ushered the four of them into the small hall. He lit a lamp and looked at them. They were a little worse for wear, but otherwise unharmed. Taichi and Koushiro grasped each other's wrists in a tight lock, shaking slightly. They were glad to see that they were both still alive.

"What is the situation?" Taichi asked Koushiro, getting down to business.

"Your parents are missing in action," Koushiro explained quietly. "They were meant to infiltrate the shinsengumi, to give us warning of any upcoming attacks, but they were supposed to be back much, much earlier today. Our attempts at contact did not receive replies, and so we can only assume that they have been captured."

"When did this happen?" Hikari demanded. "How could they have done this without us knowing?"

"Certainly, Hikari-san, you mean how could they have done this without _you_ knowing," Koushiro said with a slight nod. "Your parents are very, very clever. It is honestly where you get your strong mind from, in my opinion. But even the cleverest of us can be outwitted."

Koushiro explained that Yuuko and Susumu had been playing their role as shinsengumi as agreed. Lady Yagami originally did not need to be a part of the plan, but she refused to let her husband go into this dangerous situation alone. She offered to be a spy for them, listening for information they might need. Taichi felt sick to his stomach, wondering how many innocent people were put to death because of his mother's words. He knew that the shinsengumi were unforgiving; if she ever gave incorrect information, she would have been killed on the spot.

Hikari placed a comforting hand on her brother's shoulder. "Mother would not go against her ideals like that, onii-san. Let us believe that she and father were working together; she'd tell father who was a deserter, and he would go after them. He wouldn't kill innocents, I know it. He would probably just tell them to flee for their lives while he brought back…evidence, that was probably there before he had gotten there."

Taichi nodded numbly. This was a fair way of looking at things, though it was still speculation. Yamato, unsure of how to contribute to the situation, clutched the bell in one hand and reached for Taichi's hand with the other. The brown-haired samurai seemed to calm down significantly at Yamato's touch. They continued listening as Jyou kept watch.

"Hikari-san is exactly right," Koushiro explained, praising the young Yagami's skill. "My sources say that your parents have been true to their own cause."

"And what cause is that?" Taichi asked somberly. It was strange; he felt the strongest urge to cry. If no action was taken, he and Hikari would be orphans in a matter of hours. Perhaps they already were. He focused on the softness of Yamato's palms, a stark contrast against the rough calluses of his fingertips. There was work to be done, but it was easier knowing that Yamato was safe and sitting just next to him. The knowledge that at least one person he vowed to protect was safe made him ease up slightly. The room smelled of incense and cherry blossoms, and Taichi allowed himself a moment of ignorance as he recalled the flower viewing in Gion. He felt like that memory of himself was a character in a storybook, one that existed in a world without war.

"They have not officially allied themselves with either party. Currently, yes, they speak for the shinsengumi. But they, like Jyou and I, are fighting for a world of peace. We do not believe the ways of the Rebels, nor do we condone the actions of the Loyalists who are taking lives without knowing who they are slaying. We are neither the absence of the moon nor the full moon, but the harmonic convergence in between," Koushiro continued, pointing to the _wadokei_ next to where he knelt. "_Hantsuki_. The Half Moon."

Giggling, Hikari looked to Yamato, who may understand her joke. "Not exactly the most poetic of names, is it? But I suppose you've always been a man of mechanics, and not literature. Surely, something like _Chuisainin_ would have been better?" she said, gently trying to ease the mood. A mediator certainly sounded better than _The Half Moon_.

Yamato politely remained silent, but showed a hint of a smile that the girl could see; he was too keenly aware that Taichi was still firmly holding onto his hand and was trying to ignore the bubble of emotion in his stomach. The samurai was troubled, idly playing with Yamato's fingertips. Desperate to have some say in the conversation, Yamato piped up. "Not that it matters, surely, but I was wondering…would it be all right to ask who your sources were? How did you know we were still in the Yagami manor?"

"Well, that's classifi-…"

"Hey there!"

A slim figure clad in dark colors jumped in through the open window with a flourish. Taichi had immediately drawn his sword, pointing it straight at the intruder's neck. There was very little mirth in his eyes, and one false step could have meant the end of this stranger. "Oh, hey, easy, Taichi-sama! It's just me," came the male voice as he lowered the cloth covering his face.

Yamato gasped. It was Motomiya Daisuke. "Y-You…but…I thought…you were an actor…" he stuttered, unable to believe the amount of surprises that were coming in droves.

Grinning sheepishly, Daisuke shrugged and patted Taichi's shoulder as the samurai reluctantly sheathed his weapon. He hadn't been there for Taichi's questions, so he was not aware that Taichi was in a foul mood. The boy's cheerful disposition seemed to sour the air around him further. "Yeah, well, by day, you know? By night, it's me! The fearsome Motomiya Daisuke!"

Sighing, Koushiro sat up to explain. Apparently, when it came to actors, nothing was classified. "Yasaka shrine is right in the middle of Gion. He is in the perfect position to get more information about who is moving where, and on top of that, he happens to be a very skilled ninja, despite being a blood relative to daimyo Date Masamune. And, well, despite being so…unnaturally loud. As he said, by day, he works with the acting troupe. And at all other times, he reports to me."

"And sometimes Ken," Daisuke said with a curt nod. "When he's around, anyway. Besides, you three were pretty easy to trail, especially with Yamato-san here with you. He's kind of too pretty to miss. Hey, did you just say I was loud…?!"

Blushing furiously, Yamato felt his mouth straighten into a tight line. Annoyed beyond belief, Taichi got up and stomped his foot down. "Great, Motomiya, that's great. Let's get back to the point. Do you have information for us or not? I'm assuming you didn't come here just to give us a scare."

With a look of hurt, Daisuke glanced at Taichi with a frown. "You're my idol, did you know that? One of the best swordsmen in the land, and you haven't even seen battle," he muttered, adding something about not having to be so mean about it whilst shuffling his feet on the ground in humility. "Anyway…so…information. I do have this for you."

Dramatically, he revealed a scrap of cloth that once held something attached to a weapon. Dangling from this was a bell that looked identical to the one that Taichi gave to Yamato. Everyone took a step closer to take a look at the object. It was extremely similar to the bell that was now in Yamato's palm, with the exception of the intricate design. This one had what looked to be a turtle with spirals of gold decorating the shell and a snake entwined around it. "This is father's," Taichi said upon inspection. It was not a question. He knew exactly who this belonged to.

Curious, Yamato looked at the bell that Taichi had given to him. This one looked the same, except the design was of a fiery phoenix. It seemed that each member of the family might have had one.

Taichi pulled a small cloth from his robe and carefully wrapped the bell, storing it in a small lacquer case strewn on his belt. "Where did you see them last?" he asked gruffly.

"They were traveling from Mount Hiei. They were supposed to be getting information from the east side of the Kamo River, and then meet back up at Kiyomizudera for a final briefing. We had people stationed all around, all right, but we lost contact with them around Bishamondou Temple. We couldn't follow them straight away, of course, because it was daylight. Even our best agents couldn't be dispatched. There were too many shinsengumi prowling about, so we had to rely on communications. We sent a bird, but…"

Daisuke looked away from Taichi. He couldn't overdo this one. The whole time he found that he was unable to look at the samurai. It took a while, but he finally understood that now was absolutely not the time for jokes. "Just…well, that's what we've got so far," Daisuke completed with a sigh.

"That's fine. Bishamondou is a bit of a trek from here, but not by much. If I leave now I should be able to reach it in less than an hour - I'll still have the night…"

"Taichi, the moon is full tonight. You'll be seen," Jyou said from his watchpoint. "I mean, just looking out here…it's as bright as far as the eye can see."

Determined to be of use, Yamato stood up and offered to switch places with Jyou. The priest declined kindly. "I'm sorry, Yamato-san, but we're trained for these sort of situations. I don't mean that you're invaluable, but our mission is to get you all out of here alive," he said gently. He leaned in close to add in a whisper, "I don't know if you can tell, but Taichi is very, very concerned that you especially get out of here unscathed. The unfortunate thing is that it's his parents that are out there, and he's loyal to a fault, especially to the ones he loves. If I put you out here, he'll have my hide, you know?"

Nodding but still feeling the burn of being a useless burden, Yamato made his way back to Taichi. He was concerned about Taichi's parents, of course, but he was also upset that he couldn't be more helpful to the young man. It seemed that all he had ever been was a burden on the samurai. Even Daisuke had proven his worth, after all. This whole time he thought that the boy was just an actor, but even he had surprises of his own. All Yamato could do was play the koto, or recite a few lines from a kabuki play. There was no way that would be of any use in this scenario. Or any, really, that involved being on the run. He pulled his legs to his chest, wondering if there really was a safe place out there. He hoped that Takeru and his mother were safe and sound at Mount Kurama, at the very least.

A nondescript evening bird flew in. Koushiro recognized it immediately, standing at attention and letting it perch on his shoulder. There was a note attached to its leg. He gave it some seeds from somewhere in his robes and let it fly off. Everyone watched as he unfurled the tiny piece of paper. He drew in a sharp breath, trying to keep in words of disdain. "It's from Tachikawa-san," he said gravely. "Her quarters at the geisha house have been ransacked."

A wave of concern with an underlay of confusion washed over the group. Tachikawa? The maiko Koushiro had been escorting to Kyoto? Many of them tried to exchange puzzled looks without having Koushiro see, but it is quite difficult to hide those tics from a samurai. He sighed heavily, knowing that he had to reveal yet another confidential secret, and one that may have potential gossip behind his back if he wasn't careful. He figured that Daisuke was the only one who would possibly pass along that sort of information and made sure to give him a hard glare before explaining the situation.

"Tachikawa-san has agreed to join our cause some time ago. She had been raised in that lifestyle, grew up in Gion, and had always been very, very good at extracting information. Being on the path to a geisha meant that she had high-ranking officials speaking with her almost every day. We are lucky that she has seen nothing but success during her training; we can assess from the many gifts she's been given from her clients that she is someone gentlemen come to see specifically," he spoke like a general, completely emotionless; Jyou frowned, simultaneously impressed and upset that he could talk about someone like that without emotion. "That being said, it isn't surprising to find that some shinsengumi officers request her services."

The shorter samurai continued explaining the contents of the note. Apparently, Mimi's room had been torn asunder. People were looking for things, for secrets. Not being one to write such important information down, nothing was found in her room, but she had taken the liberty of the chaos to look into the rooms of the other girls. Hers was not the only one that had been plundered, though she quickly realized that only the girls who were supposedly a part of the Hantsuki faction had had strangers in their room. Someone in the geisha house had exposed them.

Her suspicions were focused on a girl she was not on good terms with, someone aptly named Rokujo. The girl had been with the geisha house for a long time, and rumors had been going around that she was in love with a man involved with the shinsengumi. Enraptured by his attention and unfailing gifts, she was a girl who leaned in too closely to gossip, asked questions that were strangely pressing, and was always on the verge of getting on peoples' bad sides. This, Mimi wrote, was probably how the girl obtained so much information. Rokujo was a keen writer and liked taking notes. Upon Mimi's inspection during the burglaries of that evening, she found a list of names in Rokujo's room (which had also been artfully despoiled - all the other girls' belongings had been slashed, trampled, or otherwise ruined, while Rokujo's only lay in messy heaps that were easily recoverable). They were all girls who were a part of either a Hantsuki or Loyalist faction.

"She's now on the run as well," Koushiro said, tight-lipped. The paper clutched in his fist gave away a tiny glimpse of the rage he felt, but would not say. "I will deploy what few men we have available to aid in her escape."

Yamato's trained ears heard the distinct difference in Koushiro's voice. He understood what was happening here: the Tachikawa girl was important to the samurai, probably similar to the way he had felt with Taichi. He scanned the smaller samurai with his clear blue eyes, trying to get a reading on him. He may not have taken up arms with soldiers, but he had strengths of his own. Emotions spoke to him as clearly as a sword must have sang for the samurai around him. This was a secret that Koushiro wanted to keep to himself. Yamato looked at Jyou, the priest of Kodaiji. The blue-haired young man was staring straight at Koushiro, trying to glance away every few seconds. Koshirou did not know that his secret was known by at least two people in that room.

The somber silence was deafening. The kotoist surveyed the group around him. Daisuke, the precocious actor and accomplished ninja. Jyou, the paranoid priest of Kodaiji, skilled in escape routes and who knows what. Hikari, the bright younger sister to Taichi, who spoke with spirits. Koushiro, the quietly intelligent samurai who kept his feelings a secret. And Taichi, of course. Handsome, strong Taichi, the courageous samurai who protected Yamato, and probably countless others before him, whose eyes burned with purpose, who did not want to wake up an orphan. They were all deep in thought, lost in their own minds, and surely, within a few moments, they would come up with a plan. This was the group that he was now a part of. But he wanted to make it clear.

"This may not be the time," Yamato said quietly, his voice soothing and lovely. "But…I want to declare my loyalty to this group. To Taichi, to his family. Having brought me all the way here for my selfish desires to learn of the world outside my own…this is truly the very least I can do. I am in debt to Yagami Taichi and it is my wish to repay him. I know I have not been a part of this for very long. Surely, some of you must have thought it laughable that such a useless person had to have been recovered. But I want this. I want to help, and I am yours to command."

The musician prostrated himself before Taichi, bowing his head down low. As if the gods of the wind heard his declaration, a breeze similar to the one Yamato and Taichi experienced at the flower viewing visited the shrine, causing tiny bells strewn about to tinkle with applause. No one seemed to mind that wind of that nature made no sense during the hot summer nights of Kyoto. Perhaps they were all too entranced by the scene unfolding before them. The action was done so gracefully and so full of passion that even Koushiro, who had been doing his best to remain stoic, felt his eyes begin to water. He let a breath go, not realizing he had been holding it while Yamato gave his speech. Daisuke was shamelessly weeping in the corner on Hikari's shoulder, who comforted him awkwardly.

Taichi's eyes widened at this public, heartfelt display. He felt his face flush, and his heart beat like mad. He had to remind himself to take a breath. A declaration of loyalty was one of the single most beautiful pacts one could make; it was revered even above marriage, for some. Of course, Taichi was no lord, but the sincerity Yamato's words made him feel like one. His throat felt parched. It was too late in the age of Japan to know what to do in these situations, as it seemed like very few people had this happen to them; would it be too forward of him to embrace Yamato? The thought of holding him close, making sure that he was his, that their bond was sealed, made his heart thump harder. Yes, yes…that's what he would do. It was the only thing that made sense. He made a step toward the alluring young man, his heart certain that this was the right thing to do. His thoughts were filled with ideas of encircling his arms around that slender body, whispering his acceptance of his loyalty. They'd make plans to rescue his parents, and all would be well. Yes. This was the purest feeling he had ever known.

Suddenly, Taichi collapsed. The moment was as transient as the cherry blossoms that had grown around them just months before; the death of the cherry trees with summer must have been a bad omen on them. Yamato was over him in moments, feeling his forehead, listening for the gasps of air between breaths. "Yamato-san, Jyou knows of some healing methods. Please, give him some space," Koushiro said shakily, pulling him back from the samurai's body gently.

Yamato obliged obediently, spouting words frantically. "Th-This happened before…back on the Tokaido. We were near Odawara. I passed out then, too…but a similar spell happened to him at Kotonomama Hachimanguu, and it was just him…and this wind…what on earth is going on?" he babbled, hating that he had also passed out during these critical moments. Why did they both have to get sick so often on that cursed road? What was happening to them?

Jyou knelt down next to Taichi, whose eyes were rolling backwards. He looked ghastly, and beads of sweat were appearing across his forehead. The priest pulled a _furoshiki_ from one of his belongings, which carried a box of healing supplies. With surprisingly steady hands, he poured river water from the gourd at his hip and slowly dribbled it into Taichi's mouth, closing it gently, allowing the water to travel down his throat. He made a silent prayer, asking for permission to use some of the fire that was burning underneath the incense of the shrine, and set up a tea cup, also filled with water.

"We can't all stay here," Koushiro said quietly. "We'll be a danger to them both if we hover over Taichi like this. We need to split up."

"I will not leave him," Yamato replied immediately. "I will stay with him, and with Jyou-san, until he is well again."

"Yes, I understand. Listen, Yamato-san. I entrust you to him. Your words were moving. You need to meet us at Mount Kurama. Look for Tenporin-do. It is somewhat hidden behind the temizuya fountain, just before Kuramadera. The doors are always shut, but knock in this succession, and we will open it for you. If you hear one of us say, 'If only the fox knew,' this means that it is not safe to enter and you must flee and find help if you can. It is impossible for me to give you all of our contacts, but we will have to hope that you can distinguish us. We do not wear the clothing of the shinsengumi, and we blend in well with everyone else. The only thing that we fight for is our own freedom from ignorance. If _jiyuu_, freedom, means something to anyone, and you see it in their eyes, then it is likely that they will be a part of our cause."

It was a wealth of information that Yamato clung to; it was all for Taichi's sake. He would keep the samurai safe, just as Taichi had kept him safe. They were bound something that he did not know himself, but he was not going to fight it. It was too natural, too real, too perfect. Unconsciously, he weaved his fingers with Taichi's, who began to calm down considerably. "I understand, Koushiro-san," Yamato said, hoping that his voice sounded strong.

With a curt nod, Koushiro rounded up Daisuke and Hikari. "Koushiro," Jyou called quietly, taking the now-boiling water and applying it to the cloth for Taichi's forehead. "Please don't forget about Tachikawa-san."

The red-haired samurai did not look back, but he did pause before nodding once more. He motioned to his small team. Lithe and quick, they disappeared through the back entrance of the room without a sound.

Jyou and Yamato worked together, swapping the cold cloth with the warm cloth, until Taichi's ragged breathing slowed down enough to speak. "Water," he croaked, and Jyou allowed Yamato to pour the fresh water into the samurai's mouth.

The priest dusted off his robes, standing quietly. "Watch over him for a second. I just want to make sure we're still okay here," he said, walking toward the window.

He peeked out for a moment and sat back down, looking as if he'd seen a ghost. He clutched his hand to his chest, looking around in a frenzy. "Yamato-san, there are people out there. People in blue," he said, terrified, small squeaks escaping as he pushed the words out. "There's at least ten of them, and they're coming fast. We're completely outnumbered, especially since Taichi's injured. I don't fight. I can't imagine you can kill on command, either - no offense, that's really actually very comforting, except, you know, when we have to fight for our lives…"

"Jyou-san, how can you tell that they're coming this way?" Yamato asked, trying to calm him down. "They could just be headed toward Yasaka Shrine to go to Maruyama Park to drink, perhaps…?"

"They're coming this way," Taichi whispered, his head burning up with fever again. "I can feel it. The Tengu are telling me so. They didn't follow us, but they must have a very skilled tracker…"

"Shh, Taichi, rest, please," the musician said, wiping Taichi's forehead and stroking his face. "They can't know we're here…they can't…but if they are, Jyou and I can move you, we'll just carry you to Mount Kurama like Koushiro-san said, and it will be fine…!"

Taichi shook his head fiercely. It delivered a shot of pain through his eyes, the ache growing and growing in his mind, the fever taking over his body. "Jyou, I know you think I'm hallucinating, and maybe I'm asleep and this isn't happening, maybe it's _shugendo_ or _kanashibari_ - but you need to take Yama and get out of here," he seemed to say, struggling in his body.

The words seemed to crash into one another; somehow it seemed like he wasn't even speaking at all, and neither of the two boys wanted to take this as an order. They looked at each other fearfully, knowing that the shinsengumi were only minutes away from the shrine. There was nowhere to hide here, and between the two of them, they lacked the skill and strength that Koushiro possessed. He was the one person who could probably lift Taichi and still escape quietly. Yamato cursed their luck, knowing that Koushiro could not have been in two places at once as the acting leader. But he had to do what he could to make sure Taichi was safe.

Taichi's voice resounded in their heads again, commanding them to leave him behind. Petrified, Jyou and Yamato did not know what to make of the voice, as Taichi's lips were not moving at all. Swallowing hard, Yamato managed to whisper, "This is how my brother spoke to me on Mount Kurama."

"Listen to me, Yama. I know you can hear me. I know you want to keep me safe, I know you do, but right now, you can't. I can't protect you, and you can't go up against those men. They will keep me alive long enough to get information, I can promise you that. It won't be a walk in the park for me, but I'm the strongest of us all here, and I'm the one who can take it. I swear on my grave that I will not let anyone harm you - I don't care that you're already promised to Sora, I don't care that you didn't tell me you were taken…"

Jyou heard none of this, and was startled when he saw Yamato collapse himself, holding onto Taichi as if he were a lover. Blushing, he turned away, anxious and unsure of what to do, wishing Koushiro were there to help them all. He watched the figures get larger in the distance, and did his best to quell the fear in his heart, despite being unsettled by the lack of conversation.

"Sora? I don't…no, you don't mean the one my father had me betrothed to as a child? Taichi, I don't care about her. I don't even know who she is. Why would I care for someone I've never met before? That person is someone who no longer exists; I was just a boy, not yet capable of making my own decisions, and I cast that life aside the moment I left home. You're the only one I want," he thought wildly, unaware that he wasn't speaking, either, yet knowing that Taichi alone could hear him. "It's only you. It's only ever been you."

He felt warm next to Taichi, gasping at the patches of extreme heat from the fever. He also felt ashamed in what he had said; was it cruel to say that? _I am a player in the Floating World_, he thought miserably. _I am supposed to be the very face of selfishness, am I not? For it is truly selfish of me to only want Taichi, and Taichi alone. When did I truly become Kiyohome…?_

"Yama, shh. Don't say anything…I want you, too. But because of that, I need to protect you in any way I can. I'm going to try to speak now so that Jyou won't argue. But you can't argue, either. I promise to stay alive for you."

Taichi had found his voice. For a moment, the heaving in his chest stopped, and Jyou came to him, checking his heart and his temperature. "Jyou, take your things, and get out of here. Take Yama. Don't stop. Go to Kurama. I'm not going to let them find you. I won't tell them anything. But you need to take this as an order, for your safety, for Yama's, for everyone's. Just leave me here," he said, clutching the front of Jyou's robes. His eyes looked bloodshot. "Look, they'll take me straight to my parents, won't they? That's all part of this crazy, out-of-the-blue plan I just cooked up. Just do it. Don't stop - get to safety. You hear me?"

The young priest hesitated for a moment, but did not linger. He grabbed Yamato's hand and pulled him away from Taichi. "We will come back for you," Jyou swore. "Don't die out there."

"B-But — Taichi, we can't just leave him, we can't…no, no!" Yamato was whisked away, caught by surprise by Jyou's strength, who was very much running on adrenaline and duty.

They slipped out of the exit that Koushiro had shown them just moments before the shinsengumi arrived. Everything had been cleaned up, and there was no trace of anyone but the samurai writhing on the floor. "So, they left the sick to die, huh?" one of the shinsengumi said with a sneer. "We've got some questions to ask you, boy. And don't worry — we've got your uniform with us so you can make the right decision this time. We may have sent the wrong one out to get you, that's all."

They frogmarched the weakened Taichi out of the Yasaka shrine, not bothering to remain quiet. Their march was heavy, purposeful, and ready to strike terror into any unlucky soul that they found. Taichi was about to find out where one of the main shinsengumi compounds were located, and he was ready to bear anything to keep the people he loved safe. This was a time for peace, but peace does not come without conflict.

High above the trees, the Tengu watched them carry the boy's body away. A litter of _ema_ dangled around its neck. With a rustle, it disappeared with the sound of rustling leaves without a single trace.

* * *

><p><strong>Notes<strong>:

1. I've tried to do research on Kodaiji temple. There's a lot of facts on it, but I can't tell if people ever actually lived there. For this story's purposes, let's just say they did - someone had to take care of the stuff there.

2. Maki-e is a Japanese lacquer dusted with patterns in gold or silver. It's very pretty, and the Kodaiji temple is known as the maki-e temple since the main hall was decorated in this style. Tokugawa Ieyasu helped finance Kodaiji, which explains why it's so magnificent and luxurious compared to others.

3. Oda Nobunaga was a huge proponent of modernization back in the sengoku period (1467-1603). He accepted Portuguese firearms as a weapon, allowing for musket brigades. He was also very clever, understanding several principles of micro and macroeconomics, which led to the development of Japan's castle-town system during that time, along with initializing international trade with nearby countries.

4. I didn't realize that I haven't been using suffixes until the last chapter. The -sama notation that Koushiro uses for Yagami Susumu means that the man is of a much higher rank than Koushiro.

5. The Yagami manor is located on Karasuma Dori, which is very close to Gojo Dori. If I remember correctly, the closer you are to the palace proper, the more important your family was. Since the Yagami mansion is on Gojo, we can assume that they were of pretty high ranking (though at a time of turmoil with the Loyalists, this was not a good place to be located).

6. Yasaka shrine is a 30-minute walk from Karasuma and Gojo. It opens up into Maruyama park, which is renowned for its massive weeping cherry blossom. This is a popular spot for hana-mi, and it's the place to go if you want to see what the locals do rather than tourists.

7. Clocks have existed in Japan since the 7th century as water clocks; by the 16th century, clock mechanics introduced b Dutch traders brought the _wadokei_ into existence. This clock would tell time in the traditional Japanese manner, based off of Buddhist prayer times. Incense was used to burn the clocks marking time as six hours of daylight and six hours of night using zodiac symbols to denote the time.

8. I made up the Hantsuki thing. Research just showed that the whole Loyalist-Rebel clash was beyond confusing. Chuusainin is literally "mediator", which I picked up from reading Peacemaker Kurogane (which is a manga that happens around this time as well).

9. Date Masamune was a skilled tactician and daimyo during the sengoku period. Daimyo were just below shogun in terms of rank. He is known as the "one-eyed dragon" per his missing eye. He founded the modern-day city of Sendai, and I'm pretty sure that's where Ken is from, but I could be wrong. Anyway, I did that on purpose, and that's what counts.

10. The tortoise and snake is Genbu, and the Genbu Shrine is located north of the Kyoto Imperial Palace. These animals represent longetivity. Taichi's bell had Suzaku, the phoenix of the south, on it.

11. I don't actually know what this lacquer case/wallet is called. When I dress for taiko, one of the accessories was a little lacquer case that hooked over the belt. It was really handy and I could put my money there!

12. Mount Hiei is very far east from Mount Kurama. It's a 6 hour walk, but you can take a train that will only take about an hour or so. The Kamo river runs between Kyoto, and Kiyomizudera is a popular tourist spot in terms of temples. If you go here, you can sample a bunch of mochi on the way up!

13. A not-so-subtle hinting at the Tale of Genji. Lady Rokujo was a woman so enraged with jealousy against Yuugao, one of the many girls Genji tangled with, that her spirit killed the young girl while the both of them slept.

14. I missed this shrine when I was on Kuramadera, mainly because it's easy to miss if you don't know what you're looking for. Also, I'm just bad at reading maps.

15. During the Edo period, many people were suspicious of fox, or kitsune. This was a time when the fox and other creatures were seen as goblin-type animals that couldn't be trusted. Before that, they were revered as tricksters that possessed wisdom depending on the number of tails they had; some even made offerings to the kitsune as a deity.

16. There's a really interesting journal article on _kanashibari_, or sleep paralysis, by Anna Schegoleva. She compares it to _shugendo_, which is a Buddhist sect that focuses on gaining spiritual power.


	12. Chapter 12: Detours

**Ukiyo ~ Floating World  
>Chapter 12: Detours<strong>

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Digimon. I also do not own history, nor any of the games and such that I mention here. I just put them together in fangirl land.  
><strong>Author's Note<strong>: Things are getting crazy...I do have to apologize in advance for any fans of Sora. Those who may be offended may want to skip this chapter. She doesn't get the best light here, but remember, it's a Taito fic. It didn't seem right not to address her. Additionally, we're getting into some Takari and Taito, and it gets really, really weird with the spirit world. This is what I get for writing when I've been hanging upside down for most of the day.

* * *

><p>The air was thick with the heat of summer, and many of the inhabitants of Kyoto were glad to have their handheld silk fans on hand. Night had turned to day as one would expect it to, though it came to quickly for some. It was another day of uncertainty, but this did not stop people from continuing on with their daily activities. Life was so transient that many accepted that tomorrow was a day that had not yet come, and thus, could not be changed. This peaceful thought was enjoyed by many a Buddhist priest. Enough people were afraid that they would be condemned as a Loyalist or a Rebel, but as long as one remained stoic, there was no reason for suspicion to be cast upon anyone. No one knew this as well as Takenouchi Haruhiko, who continued his neighborhood classes as usual. Noisy children and stoic older boys clambered out of the schoolhouse, heads buzzing with Confucian classics and military strategy. Although the Takenouchi school was surrounded by cherry blossom trees, the branches were barren and dead.<p>

The man was not a samurai, but the school had been his father's, and his father's before that, and there were enough in his family who knew of the art of education alongside military prowess. His wife, Toshiko, had her own separate branch of the school, where she taught the disciplined art of ikebana. They were a well-respected part of the Gion community, contributing to the literacy and culture of Japan; because of this, theirs was a home that was rarely bothered, for they were assets to both sides of the coin. The Takenouchi house was therefore one of the most important safe houses for the Hantsuki.

Their daughter, Sora, was often caught in between the worlds of military and beauty, finding herself more at home with her father's line of education than her mother's. As a child, she ran with the boys after classes, deliberately keeping her hair short, to her mother's horror. She was indistinguishable from the boys then, which made it easy for her to participate in sword fights. She often found herself paired with Taichi, who was by far her favorite sparring partner. He never let up during those sparring matches, even when he discovered that she was a girl many years after their friendship had grown. Koushiro, on the other hand, had always known she was a girl, and tended to lighten his hand when he struck. He was a loyal friend, though, and never outed her to her worried mother.

Now a blossoming youth like the rest of her friends, it was no longer easy to participate in the talks of strategy and the practice kendo matches. She was clad in pink by her mother every day and was pried from her quarters to arrange flowers for the ikebana school. Without a doubt, it was a terrible time for a girl of her age, who wanted nothing more than to do as she wished. But this was not a time for girls to do what they wanted. And so she remained obedient, grumbling to herself when she was alone, despairing at the fact that she was unfortunately quite good at the art.

And so it was with a twinge of guilt that she was more than happy to see her friends come by. The only reason they would have to hide there was because the number of safe places for them had dwindled considerably. Koushiro had come by with Hikari and Daisuke in the moonlight, who were looked ragged from the events of the evening. She made sure to shoo her mother away so that she would be able to get the news first. Thankfully, her parents were too weary with sleep to be able to play hosts. Sora hoped that her willingness to supply hospitality would placate her mother while she figured out a way to be of real use to her friends.

The red-haired samurai looked especially stricken. Sora had known him since boyhood, and was one of the few people who could read his innermost feelings. She was not especially skilled in the art, but she knew when a person was doing all they could to conceal a sadness that could not be expressed in daylight. Understanding his need for secrecy, she remained silent as she collected their things to be freshened, leading them to one of the interior rooms where they could catch their breaths. "I apologize for burdening you like this, Sora-san," Koushiro muttered, his mind a world away. "We do you a disservice by making ourselves known here. We rallied forward, ready to head to Mount Kurama, but for fear of being followed, we took a roundabout that took us to you here on Hanamikoji."

"Please, Koushiro, I've always asked you to drop the formalities. You know you are always welcome here," Sora said, pulling open the _oshiire _and grabbing as many futon as she could hold. "Hikari, I'm glad you're well. Daisuke, I know it's silly to ask, but I haven't gone by to see your plays in a while — how are you?"

The three chatted about nothing in particular for a bit, and they could not withstand it for too long. They were all visibly tired, but Koushiro could not stop himself from looking out the window. None of them had given details of what had transpired, nor where they had come from. Hungry with curiosity, Sora stood behind Koushiro, leaning against the door frame. She did not know what had happened, so decided to start with a topic that she hoped would be safe. "How is Mimi? I haven't seen her for a while. I suppose she must be busy with geiko training," she asked with a small smile.

Koushiro's back stiffened in immediate response to her question. He refused to look back at her. This was enough for Sora to know that something had happened to one of her dearest friends. Now on the offensive, she straightened up and marched herself next to the samurai. "Izumi Koushiro, please, you must tell me what is going on."

"It is not appropriate," he mumbled. "You must not concern yourself with…with these burdens."

It was clear that he was already crumbling. Whether he liked it or not, she was ready to listen. _And I am ready to fight_, she thought, but she knew those words would not be as accepted. She cursed the backwards thinking of her people. Swallowing her pride, she leaned out the window a bit, staring into the depths of the dark. Cicadas made their presence known, their chirps louder than the soft, concerned voice of the girl. "I can handle a lot more than you think. And if something has happened to my friend, my _best_ friend, I believe I should know."

He raised his fist to his mouth, biting down on his finger. The boy was in agony. Though it wasn't apparent from the outside, his dark eyes hid a chaotic swirl of the events of the day. Sora pitied him, knowing that he had feelings for the geiko. Something was going on, and he would have to tell her eventually. He had to. Although Taichi was, by and large, the boy she spent the most time with, it was Mimi who she considered her closest companion.

The two of them formed a small sisterhood, even though Sora was boyish and liked the outdoors, and Mimi was the very definition of femininity. They complemented each other like night and day, and the only reason Sora was glad that her mother worked in ikebana was that she got to live close to Mimi in Gion. Some days she was jealous of the girl, whose skin was always fairer and hair was always softer. But most days, she admired Mimi, thinking of the curve of her smile, the kindness of her eyes, the sincerity of her voice. Most days, she was happy to stroll through the streets of Kyoto arm in arm, even though she knew that all eyes were on Mimi, and never on her. But it meant that she was with the person who would keep her darkest secrets to herself.

They stood quietly, neither one speaking. They were not ready to back down. Sora would not leave, and Koushiro was too afraid to tell her what had happened. She knew that she had to make eye contact with him. She wasn't much shorter than he was, but she was still short enough that she could bend down a bit to look up at him. His dark eyes were full of worry and fear, and that was all she had needed. "Something's happened to her," Sora said numbly.

A thousand thoughts raced through her mind. Koushiro was always calm, always collected. If he was worried, then something truly terrible must have fallen upon the girl. Sora felt her head become dizzy. Her stomach was sick. She needed to know what had happened. "Koushiro, please. If you don't tell me I will simply become sick. I can imagine so many terrible things, and I need to know where my friend is. I can't live in a world without her."

_Neither can I,_ thought Koushiro miserably. But he knew that she had a point. He wouldn't know what to do if Jyou had gone missing, either. If someone hid the details from him, he would certainly try and prod someone until they gave way. He would have never said it to someone in a seat of authority, but he was willing to bend the rules for occasions like this if no one gave him information. The fact that he felt that way and more about Mimi was distressing, and it took every ounce of will power to maintain some modicum of the focus he had trained himself to have since childhood. With a great sigh, he explained the note that was retrieved from one of the trained birds that night.

Hearing about a missing friend is devastating. It was difficult to tell whether the information made Sora's mind feel more at ease or if it made her worse. A twisting knot had formed in Sora's stomach. She put a comforting hand on Koushiro's shoulder, braving a smile. "Thank you for telling me, Koushiro. Listen, I think things will be okay. Mimi is really crafty and we should give her some credit. Remember, you escorted her all the way back here from Odaiba," she said with an anxious chuckle. "And I know she's not the easiest person to transport."

A hint of a smile tugged at Koushiro's lips. Recalling their trip on the Tokaido was a pleasant memory. They hadn't had it as hard as Taichi and Yamato; being with a geiko as renowned as Mimi meant that they were treated to many wonderful stops. To them, the Tokaido had almost been a pleasure trip across Japan. On the few times they had gotten into trouble, Mimi's sharp tongue had done more damage to the ruffians than his sword could ever do. She was certainly safe on her own, but he still felt responsible for not being there for her. "You're right, Sora," Koushiro said, finally ridding himself of the formalities for a moment. "I did not mean anything against her character. Nor did I mean anything against yours. I am lucky to be friends with women who are strong. But that doesn't mean I will stop doing my best to defend my friends."

"That's the spirit," Sora said with a real smile. "Mimi knows that my house is one of the safest places she can go to. Perhaps she's just on her way now and was waiting to make sure I was awake."

"Yes…you're right. She may well be on her way, or is just waiting at one of the safe houses."

"Mimi will be safe. Once the morning comes, we'll send out a message to the rest of Hantsuki to see if anyone has caught sight of her. I know that we'll all be able to breathe once we know for certain."

After a final goodnight and another string of apologies for intruding at such a late hour, Koushiro joined Daisuke in the shared guest room. Sora checked on Hikari, who was already fast asleep in the other guest room. She meant every word of what she had said to Koushiro. The fact that Mimi was missing, out there and possibly alone on this bright night, made Sora uneasy. She hadn't realized that she was holding a scrap of paper and was busily tearing it apart. Shaking her head, she bent down to clean up the mess, praying to Kwannon that Mimi would be safe. _She should be on her way here,_ Sora hoped desperately. _She's smart. We've all been taught to take long roundabouts to make sure that we aren't being followed. I'm glad that father and mother took such great care to make our home a safe haven…especially for my friends._

She busied herself with finding an extra futon for Mimi. In her heart, she knew that her dear friend was safe. She had to believe it was so.

* * *

><p>Hikari was deeply asleep. Though her body was resting, her mind was wide awake. Before her head landed on the firm pillow, she had felt that something had happened to her brother. Mount Kurama had always been a welcoming place to her; now, after having met Takeru and Natsuko, she felt that her communication with the holy place had strengthened a hundredfold. Murmuring prayers as she slept, she allowed herself to open her mind. The spirit of her body lifted out of her, drifting slowly and gently toward the meeting place ordained by the universe and its gods. A tiny point of light in her mind's eye was where she would see the astral Takeru and his mother.<p>

Light as a feather, her spirit followed the thread connecting her to the handsome boy of Mount Kurama. Her dreamscape resembled the heavens; she was surrounded by a darkness that was pierced by twinkling stars. Everything here was connected. She would never be able to explain this world she could access with such ease to a normal person. Each string of fate was arranged in a way that was chaotic, but still somehow sensible. Rainbow hues made the strings and stars look like a fantasy world of color and light. Each step on the path leading her to the boy made a sound like a chime, and she knew she was headed in the right direction.

Within moments, she found herself in front of a hut, closely resembling the physical one on the mountain. She knocked politely and waited for an answer. "Welcome," said Takeru's voice from behind her.

Startled, Hikari spun around and grinned at the boy. "You mustn't scare me like that," she teased. "The spirit world may not take kindly to such behavior."

Takeru laughed, his white teeth gleaming agains the darkness of the realm. "No, it's just you," assured the boy, taking her hand. "Come, let's go. There's another path we should follow."

"Where is your mother?"

"She's resting. And my bond with you is simply much, much stronger," he said without a hint of embarrassment. It was a statement more than anything else. Hikari would have blushed if she didn't feel the same way.

Together, they walked on the glittering path. He grasped her hand; she was surprised that she was able to feel anything. The warmth transferred to her as if they were truly next to each other, and not components of the spirit world. His confidence radiated, and he looked at home among the stars in the universe.

They wandered on, stopping in front of what seemed to be nothing at all. Takeru gestured toward the empty space, rearranging the particles until it resembled a gallery. It resembled a traditional Japanese home, except with more windows than Hikari had ever seen. Each window framed a constellation in the sky, and she was overwhelmed at the sheer number of stars displayed like works of art that could fit in this seemingly tiny space. The hall looked to go on for miles. Puzzled, she looked to Takeru for guidance. "Where are we?"

"This is the great hall," explained Takeru. "It's a place that only few have seen. Only people with the strongest connections to the spirit world are able to see this in their minds' eye — even fewer are able to remember it after seeing it. Upon meeting you, I believe our energy has grown a hundredfold, at least. I've always been able to see this, but I am happy that I'm finally able to share it with someone."

Hikari felt her heart skip a beat. Unconsciously, her grip on his hand tightened affectionately. "It's beautiful," she whispered, unable to hide her awe.

"Be careful. Some monks have warned that becoming too enraptured by the language of the heavens could result in a terrible beating for the one who showed it to their friends," Takeru said. He had to hide a smile when he saw Hikari's head whip down; she didn't want to be the cause of him getting hurt. "Don't worry. As long as you remember to remain humble, you will be able to take this information back with you."

"Why are you showing this to me?"

"Both of our brothers are in peril. I can feel your anxiety…I can feel you no matter where you are. I believe we are both here to discover why, and how, our brothers will be all right. Come, follow me."

Hand in hand, they walked toward one of the windows. Hikari had studied them in the past, and knew that many of the names had changed depending on the astronomer. They stopped in front of _Sode Boshi_, a constellation that looked like a kimono sleeve. Others thought it looked like the segments of bamboo; others still thought it looked like a ruler meant to measure the land. She mentioned this to Takeru, who nodded and chuckled, as if she were missing a crucial piece of information.

"Yes, this is all true. But did you know that in other parts of the world, this constellation is known as Orion? He was a hunter to many, a swordsman to some. But a warrior of some class in almost every story you hear," he said softly. "But there is one that is relevant to us. Have you studied the Heian in your books? The story of the wars between the Taira and the Minamoto?"

Hikari nodded, though her mind was still struck by the fact that something as delicate as kimono sleeves was seen as an archer in other lands. The world was truly bigger than she had thought if things like stars could be interpreted with so much variance! To think, people in different regions of Japan thought of it as wood or measuring tools — the views of others outside of Japan must count in the millions. The idea of it was frightening, but welcoming. It would be foolish to stay rooted in one place when there was so much more to discover. "We had delved into this history plenty of times," she said, straining to recall. "The Taira and the Minamoto, or Genji and Heike, fought many years ago to claim control of the Imperial courts. What they wanted, in the end, was Japan itself."

"That's right. Now, this star…" He pointed at the one at the top left. "…Represents the Taira."

With his other hand, he gestured to a star at the bottom right. "And this one symbolizes the Minamoto. These three stars in the middle are what keeps them apart, but also depicts their war."

They studied the constellation in silence. Hikari's head spun with the many different definitions and stories surrounding these stars. She always thought she was bright; she was very good when it came to reading the night sky. But to think that there were more stories than she could have even dreamed of! It was almost too much information, but her brain thirsted for more. Takeru looked at her, willing her to solve the puzzle he had set. "Do you understand the significance of this? Between my brother and yours?"

Surprised by the question, she had no answer for him. How could a battle between the Genji and the Heike have anything to do with their siblings? She wanted an immediate answer, but Takeru's expectant expression made her determined to figure it out on her own. Closing her eyes, she imagined the history that she had learned about so long ago. What did the war signify? Every war caused a chapter to end. That much was certain. The victor of this battle marked the end of the Heian period, and the beginning of the Kamakura period.

Eyes still shut, she spoke quietly, allowing the words to come out of her mouth and arrange themselves into something meaningful. "This war changed everything," she thought aloud. "The Heian period was a time of beauty, a golden period of peace. Murasaki Shikibu wrote the first novel that our world had ever known."

Takeru nodded excitedly, urging her to go on. It was annoying, in a way, like a teacher knowing the answer and waiting impatiently for the student to catch up. But his face was so friendly and so encouraging, as if he needed her help to find the true answer at the end of it all. "That's exactly right. Please, continue. You're almost there."

Taking a deep breath, she allowed her mind to wander to the next segment in time. "The Kamakura period…this is when the samurai became prominent. The Minamoto clan won. They started the warrior caste, established the _bakufu_ government. The strongest survived here, and it was truly the rise of the warrior…"

Gasping, she realized where the hidden symbolism lay. Ishida Yamato, the musician. Yagami Taichi, the warrior. The two were physical representations of times now past. "This constellation is meant to display the end of one era, and the rise of another," she said in surprise. "But…but our brothers don't quarrel. Not even in the least."

"That's right. I believe this is why you are here with me now, so we can understand why this was the first constellation that appeared. Nothing else revealed itself to me when I tried to look for this on my own." They had never let go of each other; propelled by an unknown force, they began walking down the great hall. They were not sure how far they had walked, but the image of Sode Boshi was no longer visible behind them.

They now stood in front of an image of Amanogawa, the Milky Way. Thoughts of the Tanabata festival immediately came to mind. The festival had occurred not too long ago, having always been on the seventh day of the seventh month. The story of the lovers Orihime and Hikoboshi was a favorite amongst many a young maiden. Lovers that were separated, and only allowed to see each other once a year, when the bridge made itself known, and they could be together again for a fleeting moment. It was heartbreaking, but a thrilling story for young women who longed for a mate. "Interesting that the spirits led us here," Takeru remarked. "I don't understand what this could accomplish…taking us from the battle of Genpei to the star-crossed lovers."

The girl's instincts sparked to life. If the spirits were giving them clues, they were still required to work them out. Though she did not know Takeru for a very long time, she knew that he was brilliant in his own way. Perhaps what he did not know very well was how her brother worked. The two of them were required to solve this riddle because it was about their brothers. "Takeru, look. Do you see something here, written in the stars? There is something connecting the two of them," she said, noting a tiny glimpse of red hooked on one of the brightest stars.

As she spoke, the walls of the great hall began to fade, as if allowing her to check on her hypothesis. Her suspicions were confirmed. A thin, almost translucent red line ran between the constellations. The stars were not arranged in the way she would see them in the night sky, but the spirit world did not trouble itself with such constraints. Here, she was able to see a grouping of seven bright stars. _Subaru_, she thought. A cluster of seven bright stars in the sky, given the name for coming together as one.

Sode boshi, which now also bore the name Orion, a symbol of a warrior and the end of the age of beauty. Subaru, coming together. And Amanogawa, a tale of two lovers being reunited once a year. There was a pattern of separation followed by a reunion. Hikari and Takeru stood there, watching as the stars twinkled in the spirit world, the red thread connecting the three growing stronger and stronger. "These three constellations…" Takeru murmured, finding himself closer to the lovely girl, staring into her crimson eyes. "You're brilliant, Hikari. I didn't even see the red thread at all."

Excited both at their discovery and the newfound closeness, Hikari clutched Takeru's hands in hers and gave a little jump. "It's like they all represent our brothers. They must have been bound together for centuries, being reborn over and over again," she said. As quickly as it came, her delight dispersed. "But…the separation. Must their story always be so sad?"

"It is said that separation makes the heart grow fonder. And remember, they always come together. The Subaru constellation seems to guarantee that. You see…my guess is that the spirits brought us here as a source of comfort. Our brothers have been separated. But it's written in the stars that they will always come back to each other," he said, now at ease. "This must be the answer. Before Yamato and Taichi were born, they must have been busily searching for each other in the stars. My bloodline carried Ishida Mitsunari. Yours carried Toyotomi Hideyoshi. They were renowned for their loyalty to each other; my guess is that Yamato and Taichi carried their red thread generations over, strengthening it with each pull."

Hikari remembered Ishida Mitsunari, the loyal retainer to the Toyotomi clan. Though he was not renowned for his skill on the battlefield, he was one of Hideyoshi's most trusted tacticians. His fealty was legendary, and it was said that when Tokugawa revolted and killed Hideyoshi, Mitsunari swore revenge. To his last breath, his allegiance remained with the samurai. So, even the stars believed that Taichi and Yamato were fated to be together. She knew without a doubt that one would die for the other, though she would rather have them both live and be happy.

Takeru reached out, trying to touch the red thread. They were nowhere near it, of course, and his fingers touched air. The movement was so delicate and serene that Hikari felt herself miss a breath. "Look. Do you see it? Every passing moment, the thread becomes more colored. I wonder if that means their bond grows stronger with each passing second," he said softly, turning toward the girl, running his thumb under her jawline. "This is no secret, Hikari, but our red thread is similar in character."

He traced his way around her cheek and slid his thumb across the softness of Hikari's lips. She gasped; he did not stop, allowing himself to trace the O-shape her little mouth made, feeling his heart beat in his chest as she movewd closer to him. He wasted no time in holding her close, sealing their bond with a warm, passionate kiss. She allowed her hands to trail softly down his back, deepening the sensation. Groaning, he pulled her closer, desperate to fill the gap between them. Though they were both gentle, the closeness they felt was intense. Within moments they allowed themselves the liberty of movement, their garments falling and becoming one with the stars. They embraced each other hungrily, as if they, too, had been apart for years when all they wanted was to see each other once more. Their hearts beat as one as their bodies entwined, thankful for the cover of the spirit world and the bond that they had known before birth.

Somewhere, far in the expanse of the constellations, a dim red thread became bright with color, shining through the night sky of the mysterious spirit world.

* * *

><p>Sora was ready to turn the lantern down when a frenzied knock came to the door. "I didn't know Jyou was with you," she said aloud as she walked to the opening. Koushiro, with his superb hearing and ever the samurai, was up and alert at once, refusing to let her open it alone.<p>

"Don't worry, I wasn't asleep yet. And I'd rather not have it be a trap," he said wearily, a firm grasp on the hilt of his sword. "I know it has been a couple of hours since we've arrived, but one can never tell with the shinsengumi…"

The knock resounded again. "Koushiro, you can't listen to that and tell me it's not Jyou," she teased. Still, she was cautious as she toed toward the entrance, sliding the door open slowly.

She couldn't help but gasp in surprise. Jyou was not the only one at the door. The blue-eyed prince who came into Kyoto so recently, the one who she only had glimpses of when he arrived! He was beautiful, a piece of heaven. She could still make out some of the features she had noticed when she watched him as Kiyohime, though she despised the character. It was easy to separate him from that woman, of course. Fumbling to keep her emotions in tact, she quickly allowed the priest and the musician into her home, hoping the heat from her cheeks wasn't apparent. Surely, she would be able to blame that on the summer weather.

It was quick to assess that the situation had become dire. Ishida Yamato was on the verge of tears; Sora felt her heart catch in her throat to see such a delicate, private moment. For some reason, she wondered what it would be like if a man that beautiful cried for her with such passion. But she then realized that it was someone else who was stirring these emotions in him, and she felt a pang of jealousy beat unconsciously in her chest. Jyou spoke first. Equally grief-stricken, he, too, looked ready to break down. "They..they took Taichi," he moaned in despair. "We couldn't do anything…he…he somehow told us to run, he _begged_ us to, and we wouldn't have been able to bring him with us…"

The silence was sudden and uncomfortable. If either of them were samurai, such an action would be so dishonorable and cowardly that it punishable by suicide. The way of the sword dictated that it was better to die with honor, even when failure was the only option. To run away and leave a comrade behind was unheard of. But one was a priest, who was supposed to live and breathe peace and scripture; the other was a musician who had never known bloodshed before he had met Taichi.

Sora ushered them in quietly, leading them to the guest room. With Koushiro, Daisuke, Jyou, and Yamato in tow, this would now have to suffice as the men's quarters. Hikari was lucky that she was the only female guest, though with any hope, Mimi would join them soon enough. In hushed tones, the young men gathered around to talk. Deciding that she could listen in because they were in her home, Sora took her time with looking for extra futons while they spoke. "I can't say I'm not disappointed in at least one of you," Koushiro whispered. "But I understand. When a spirit tells you to do something, it is often best not to ignore it."

"I swear to you, we would have taken him with us if we could," Jyou said again, visibly miserable. "Why on earth would you have left a musician with me? If you had stayed with me instead, Koushiro, Taichi may be with us now!"

"Hey! There's no need for that kind of talk!" Daisuke whispered harshly, the sound coming through his teeth in a hiss. The boy was very defensive when it came to anyone who acted in their troupe. "Yamato had just made a pledge to Taichi-sama. How was he to know that he would have to act upon it within the hour? Most retainers make these speeches and are never called to action for years. I have no doubt in my mind that Yamato would have been able to do so if only he'd had more training!"

Jyou looked away swiftly, attempting to hide his tears. He knew that his words were bitter and ill-placed, but they all felt Taichi's absence. No one had gotten any sleep yet, so for agitation to rise so swiftly was not out of the question. Koushiro cleared his throat, knowing that he was still functioning relatively well. "Let's think, then, for I know that none of us will be able to sleep without some sort of plan. Did Taichi tell you two anything else before asking you to escape? Perhaps that will give us some sort of starting point," he said, keeping his volume low.

"That's all he said," Jyou snapped in between great sniffles. "I would have told you if he said more. Isn't that right, Yamato?"

A stab of guilt ran through Yamato's heart. He was on the verge of tears, but he felt so empty without Taichi that nothing was coming out. Daisuke's words were kind, and he lifted his head slowly, carefully, hoping that he would not break. Jyou was missing one crucial part. "Taichi said something else," Yamato said, his voice muted. "He was trying to tell us both, but I think some of it may have gotten cut off. I'm unsure of how he was communicating with us without moving his lips."

The sound of Yamato's voice sent a chill of wonder through Sora's spine. Even though he sounded like he was going to break, there was no denying that he was as desirable as the sound of a temple bell to a person ready to find nirvana. She held her breath waiting for him to speak again, thankful that the boys were so busy with their discussion that she seemed to have been forgotten. Of course, she wanted to know where Taichi was, too. He was, after all, her best friend. But a darker thought in her mind simply wanted Yamato to speak so that she could drown in it. There was something peculiar about the way he said Taichi's name, and a thought tugged at her mind that she silenced immediately so she could simply listen.

"Taichi…the fool…he wanted to get captured. He did not feign his sickness, Jyou could tell you that. But he said, over and over, that we had to escape. That the shinsengumi would want him alive to find the rest of us, and that they would lead him straight to his parents. I do not know much about honor, but…he is willing to sacrifice his life for the people he loves and the cause that he believes in," Yamato continued, his voice hoarse.

Blinking tears out of his eyes, Jyou hurriedly wiped them on his sleeve. "You're right, I barely heard any of that," he said thoughtfully. "I wonder why? It sounded like so much of what he was saying was muffled, as if he were speaking through water and I was trying to hear him through ice. All I heard was that he wanted us to take our things, and to head straight to Mount Kurama."

"And yet here we are," Koushiro sighed. "Perhaps we should have headed straight for Mount Kurama after all, but I suppose you both ended up here as well. I suppose the journey does not matter as much as the result. Thank you for the report, both of you. It does seem that we may have a starting point. We do know that his parents were last heard of at Bishamondou, and we can assess from Taichi's spirit form that the shinsengumi will keep him alive, thank Kwannon. Men, let us get some rest tonight. Tomorrow we can start early. We should not all go at once; we may have to split up. I will go to Mount Kurama and see if we have any reinforcements that can help us. The second team will start heading for Bishamondou to try and track Taichi — Daisuke, this may be suited for you. We will decide who goes where in the morning. Sora, I apologize; have you been here this whole time?"

Gasping, Sora blushed, hurriedly spreading out futons for the rest of the guests. "I had trouble finding the futon," she lied. "I will see you in the morning."

The young men thanked her as she made a quick bow and ran to her room. Dizzy with information, Sora slunk to the floor, making sure that she remembered it all. Taichi was missing, and allowed himself to be captured. Yamato was the only one who could hear Taichi's wordless spirit-talk. Although she was worried for Taichi on the outside, there was a terrible feeling in her stomach that recoiled with jealousy at the thought of Taichi being close enough to the musician to have a spirit bond. _At least I am promised to him_, she reminded herself in an effort to calm down. _There is nothing that could change that._

She laid down, hoping that sleep would take her right away. She did not get her wish; the thought that Yamato, the man she was to marry, was in the other room. How lucky she was to have someone so handsome! Thoughts of children and a future together clouded her mind, completely pushing out thoughts of worry for her best friend. She knew it was inappropriate, but she had to talk to him. She was desperate to have his attention on her; never before had she felt such a strong need to feel like a woman. The feelings were so strong that they overwhelmed her, and she decided to stop fighting it. Why bother? Her future was already decided for her, and for once, she was happy with the outcome.

The sound of a door sliding open caught her attention. Unable to sleep, she steadied her breath, figuring the sound had come from the men's quarters. She crawled out of bed, sneaking over to the room and peeking in. They were all asleep, and one futon was empty. A koto lay there in place of it, and she knew that Yamato was the one who had gotten up. She could not help but smile at her luck.

Creeping further into the house, she realized that he must have gone out to relieve himself. Swallowing hard, she was glad to have enough decency to not peep on such a private moment. She counted to ten before continuing forward. Yamato was standing outside, facing the inner gardens of the school. _What a foolish man,_ she thought to herself with a small smile. _Any samurai worth their salt would not put themselves in such a vulnerable position; imagine if father woke up and saw him standing there. What a fuss that would create._

Sora steeled herself. Because she was going to be his bride, she had to start getting used to approaching him in some manner of speaking. She had forgotten the mannerisms that her mother had tried to teach her, but she felt emboldened by her privilege. Clearing her throat gently, she stepped toward him. He spun around in surprise, his perfect face marred with worry and fear. Were she any bolder, she would have went straight to him and held him in her arms. But not yet. The part of her that played and hunted with the boys saw Yamato like a doe, one that was not to be frightened.

"It is a lovely evening," she said quietly, walking toward him. She leaned against a pole opposite the lean young man. "This is my parents' home, sir. I haven't yet had the pleasure to meet you, and yet here you are, lounging in our gardens at this hour of the night."

"My apologies," he murmured. He was far, far away from the conversation, and Sora wanted him to look at her. No such luck. "I shall go back and rest. I do not want to keep you, nor do I want to offend you and your kind hospitality."

He turned, not willing to introduce himself. Determined to make herself known, she spoke again. "My name is Takenouchi Sora. What is yours?" she asked politely.

The name made his ears perk up. She took the gesture of familiarity as a hint to continue, ignoring the fact that he seemed to distance himself from her even more. "Yamato," he said simply. "I hail from the Yamada school in Edo. Now, as I mentioned, I shall take my leave, so the both of us may rest."

Sora pressed forward, drunk with delight that he was talking to her. So this is what the flirtatious ladies lived for! Perhaps being a geiko like Mimi would not have been such a bad idea. Once again ignoring Yamato's body language, she stepped toward him. He stepped back, right into the door. He would not be able to leave without saying at least a few more words to her. "Funny, that name does sound familiar," she said, feigning ignorance. She remembered the way that Mimi taught her how to talk to boys to get them to bend to her will; Sora was having trouble with the lighthearted tone, but she was still enjoying the moment. "I do believe that you may also hail from a different background. One of a samurai class of old, if I'm not mistaken."

Fumbling to open the door without making a sound, Yamato's brows furrowed in confusion. What on earth was happening? To think, all this time he was Taichi's Kiyohime, only to feel like one of the monks of Dojoji in front of this young woman. He allowed himself to breathe through his nose, trying to recall what Kiyohime might have been thinking at the time. He would not promise anything to this girl. The one he wanted was captured and lost somewhere, and rescuing him was all that mattered. Dancing around the matter would not be wise, but he also did not want his companions to be kicked out, either. With a deep breath, Yamato chose the middle path, remaining steadfast. "It is late, Takenouchi-san. If you don't mind, I would like to retire. I simply needed a breath of fresh air, for my concern for Taichi grows by the second. I thank you for understanding," he said with a short bow, finally getting the doors to open silently.

As if snapping out of a trance, Sora found herself blushing with embarrassment. "Oh! Oh, my goodness. Of course. Please, get some rest. I apologize for keeping you," she said, returning the bow and wondering where the sudden heat came from. What amazed her further was that she had no intention of stopping if it happened again. The thrill of having a man look at her like a woman — even if he looked afraid, which would have made sense, considering actors only could look at other beautifully made up men — was scintillating. "I hope to see you in the morning, Yamato of the Yamada school."

He left quickly, shaking his head, thankful that she did not follow him. What on earth was the girl thinking? He had never been approached so shamelessly before. They did not even know each other's name! Did she even know Taichi? Why did she not care that he was missing? He scowled, wondering how people could be so cruel, but he wondered if he were the same to her. If he turned the tables, he was probably just as cruel, caring only for Taichi's safety. Selfishness was truly a formidable thing. _Remember Kiyohime_, he thought to himself as he lay back down. _It's probably not her fault. But no matter what, I will not lose focus. Taichi needs me, and I will be there for him._

Yamato shut his eyes, clutching Taichi's bell close to his chest. It radiated heat, and for a moment, he thought he could feel Taichi's warm body next to his. He inhaled deeply, imagining the samurai's woody scent. Sleep took him immediately, and was kind enough to bestow a vivid dream within the depths of his mind. He cuddled the souvenir of the samurai close, turning in his futon and unaware of everything else in the world.

In dreams, Taichi was there, his strong arms wrapped around Yamato's lithe body. Neither of them dared to impugn on the strength of their bond. The two of them were one entity, their spirits entwined so tightly together that there was no room for anyone else. Taichi smiled, looking deep into Yamato's eyes. _My Yamato_, he mouthed, his hands tenderly caressing the small of his back. _We'll be together again soon_.

Strong, fierce Taichi. He could see the lean, muscular body so clearly. They faced each other, an intimate distance apart. Because it was a dream, he allowed his hands to explore, shivering in pleasure as Taichi rubbed light circles against his back. He grazed Taichi's rigid abdomen, memorizing each line as if he were a koto. Slowly, Yamato allowed his fingers to rise, tracing over the samurai's sensitive nipples up to the back of his neck. The skin there was smooth and darkened from the sun, and Yamato pushed back for a moment to look at Taichi in full, realizing that in this dream, neither of them were wearing their robes. The strapping young man was the very vision of a god. _My very own samurai_, he thought with a smile. _What I would give to be of use to you_.

Taichi smiled back knowingly, pulling Yamato back into another embrace. They were warmer now that clothing was unnecessary; dreams were funny like that. He buried his head into Yamato's golden hair, allowing his hands to trail down past Yamato's tailbone, his lips curving into a wicked smile as he found something softer. _You are mine; what more do I need? You are not someone to be used, Yamato. You are someone to be cherished,_ he said, moving his hands since his lips were not. With that, he tilted Yamato's face up to look at his, and pressed his lips onto the musician's. There was no hesitation as he encouraged the blonde's lips open with his tongue, learning more about the boy through touch.

Yamato writhed in his sleep, somehow able to keep himself quiet as the Taichi of his dreams continued his actions mercilessly. After a few more blissful moments, he stopped, an exhausted smile on his lips.

Sora watched him from the peep hole, mouth agape with thoughts of womanhood. Apparently, it blossomed much faster than she had anticipated. _Perhaps I should visit more men before they head to bed_, she thought to herself as she went back to her room, not knowing that Yamato's thoughts and heart belonged to Taichi and Taichi alone.

* * *

><p><strong>Notes:<strong>

1. Education (reading, writing, and arithmetic, and more, depending on the type of school) in the Edo period was conducted mainly by priests and monks, though samurai, doctors, and people in other professions were also known to teach. Samurai attended schools sponsored by their domains where they had their own curricula.

2. I won't lie. Writing Sora's part was the hardest thing for me since she was my least favorite character for what I think are obvious reasons. I took some liberties here, since her father technically worked at Kyoto University, and, well, they're in Kyoto now (it seems like Digimon took place in a more urban setting).

3. Japanese homes, even today, tend to have a _washitsu_, or a Japanese-styled room. These rooms are often completely bare and have _oshire_, a two-tiered closet for holding things that can be added to the room to readjust it to whatever purpose you need. By day, for example, you can leave it empty; if you need to study, you can pull a small table out; if you want it as a bedroom, you can take out futon. It is a true multi-purpose room.

4. The spirit world that I made up for Hikari and Takeru is basically supposed to be like Rainbow Road from Mario Kart mixed with the spirit check up that Aang had in Avatar.

5. Takeru's warning is based off of a Japanese tale that can be found in Royall Tyler's collection, "Japanese Tales". It is story 120, where a monk is so besotted with awe at what paradise looks like that the one who showed it to him was severely punished.

6. Time for some myths in astronomy! The Orion constellation was seen many different ways around the world. One interpretation in Japan is that two of the stars represented the Taira (Betelgeuse) and Minamoto (Rigel) families; the Genpei war brought the Heian period (794-1192) to a close. The Heian period was known as a gentle, artistic period, and the era following was geared toward an isolationist and warrior path. In other places still, the three stars that formed his belt were seen as bamboo segments to people who lived in areas with bamboo forests, or rulers for people who worked in land management. It also looked like a kimono sleeve (sode boshi), which is a much more delicate view of Orion.

7. The second story we have is based around the Tanabata festival, which occurs every 7/7 of the year. Legend has it that two lovers, Orihime and Hikoboshi, were separated by the Milky Way and were only allowed to meet again on this day. Depending on where you're hearing the story, the names change, but the stars themselves are Vega and Altair.

8. Subaru is known as the Pleiades in astronomy. They are a cluster of seven stars. In Greek mythology, they are known as the seven sisters.

9. In many Japanese folk tales, if you ignore what a spirit says to you, lots of bad things will happen. Pick up Japanese Tales translated by Royall Tyler, or Tales of Times Now Past by Marian Ury.

10. More information is apparently being studied; in the past, Ishida Mitsunari was seen as a villainous character, but as more history is unveiled, he turned out to be much more heroic. There's a game out that plays like Phoenix Wright that has you controlling Ishida Mitsunari and figuring out tactics on the sengoku battlefield. The tactician part is pulled from the video game, and I am still looking for literature on his actual person.

11. Sora's behavior here very closely mimics Kiyohime's character from Dojoji; specifically, the parts that she did not find attractive at all.


	13. Chapter 13: The Price of Loyalty

**Ukiyo ~ Floating World  
>Chapter 13: The Price of Loyalty<strong>

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Digimon or any of its characters. Incidentally, I also do not own Japanese history.  
><strong>Author's Note:<strong> I am writing this from under my desk. It's been a hectic month, but I am happy to report that within this month, I was able to do more research by hanging out at the Asian Art Museum, which is currently doing an exhibition called "Seduction" which is specifically about ukiyo-e paintings, and I've picked up Sengoku Basara for the Wii, which is basically a super hilarious and over-the-top version of the sengoku era of Japan mixed with Samurai Warriors. It's in-freakin'-sane. This unfortunately also means that my writing style went off the deep end. I'm sorry. I just wanted to get a chapter out. I'll do my best next time...

* * *

><p>Despite the grand space of the Takenouchi household, the atmosphere was stifling. It was hot, much too hot. The combination of the unforgiving summer heat and the plan to rescue the Yagamis from the Shinsengumi should have driven the warriors near madness. Their resolve proved to be as strong as bamboo and did not yield. The slender form of the musician could be found practicing swordplay in the compound, doing his best to mimic his mentors. There was too much at stake for him to be unprepared. The young man was determined to save his shining prince (though he would never admit this deep-seated fact to Taichi) with his own two hands. There was nothing else in the world that he wanted more than to be close to him once more, to have the samurai back in the arms of safety and peace.<p>

Koushiro was a marvel as a samurai. Each warrior drew strength from a pool of energy that differed for every individual. The redhead seemed to breathe intelligence, finding comfort in precise slices and movements. Watching him was like watching a graceful bonsai move and adapt as necessary, always bending toward sunlight. He never wasted a movement. Outsiders would have thought him doing nothing, as he did not move with ferocity or urgency. No, this young man calculated his movements, always thinking of how he could end a match with the fewest necessary actions. Yamato watched him in awe, doing his best to mimic the samurai, wielding a sword lent to him from the secret weapon stores of the safe house.

The work was difficult, but it had to be done. There was no rhyme or reason to run into the fray unprepared. Unfortunately, Yamato's attempts to copy Koushiro's style of fighting did not turn out as well as he'd hoped. Music flowed freely through his veins, and he was used to a way of life that could be both structured and chaotic but still produce something amazing. But the koto rarely lent time and space for empty notes. The strings were meant to be plucked to make lush a silent environment. The single, steady swipes delivered by Koushiro were synonymous with the steady drumbeat of an _odaiko_, with plenty of opportunity to remain silent before the next beat. Thus, Yamato was frustrated to learn that each time he tried to move the sword toward the practice dummy, his timing was almost always off. The samurai's way of fighting certainly worked well, but there was no rhythm to it. After missing the timing once again, Yamato grumbled in frustration, sheathing the sword and excusing himself from the training area.

"I sincerely apologize for wasting your time," Yamato murmured, knowing that Koushiro had followed him into the room. "Please do not think me insolent. I am trying, it's just…"

"No, no. Please don't apologize. There is no need for that; I think I understand where the issue lies," Koushiro replied, placing a gentle hand on the musician's shoulder. The fabric of Yamato's old robes were starting to fall apart, and bits of scrap cloth could be seen through the holes. Although the Yagamis had offered him new clothes, he had declined out of embarrassment, unwilling to trouble his kind hosts after needlessly putting their son through the Tokaido. The serious-faced musician didn't seem to mind or notice. At present, he was staring hard into the ground dejectedly.

Concerned for the young man, Koushiro coughed quietly, clearing his throat. "You see, there are many different styles of fighting. I have studied them all. I follow the Ittou-Ryuu school, Ono-ha. To me, movements must be deliberate. There is a purpose to each cut, and I rely on one single, powerful move to defeat my enemies. This is why I focus solely on the cut; that is all that matters. Every other movement is unnecessary and takes away from the form. This school teaches us that 'one sword gives rise to ten thousand swords'. This means that if we learn the fundamentals of cutting, it can be applied to all variations in the future."

Yamato's mouth remained taut in a straight line, unsure of what all these technical terms meant. He had assumed that it meant he was not quite fit to be a samurai, and while he knew that this was an undeniable fact, he did not want to be told this. He had had to argue hotly with Koushiro and Jyou about letting him come along on the rescue mission. They were as concerned with his own safety more than anything, and though they had repeated it over and over again, he would not back down. _I will not abandon Taichi_, he had told them sternly. _My loyalties lie with him and his family. I swore I would do everything in my power to protect him, and so I shall._

While he appreciated their concern, he did not like being treated like a delicate petal. He hoped he was imagining it, but at times he felt that he was put under more duress and protection than the women. It was not that he felt ashamed at the treatment. Certainly, he did not know the first thing about fighting and would indeed be useless on the battlefield (both Hikari and Sora knew more than he did in the ways of the blade). It was foolish to think that his fierce loyalty would help save his beloved Taichi, but he vowed to pair it with a desperate amount of practice to make sure that he would not slow everyone down.

Lost in thought, Yamato imagined storming into Bishamondou, sword in hand. Or perhaps the wakizashi that Taichi had given to him at the start of their journey. He imagined the mechanical ice pick, still hidden in its secret compartment in his traveling box. Sometimes it would be both. In any case, he saw himself at the mouth of the temple, looking debonair, ready to save Yagami Taichi. He would address himself as Taichi's loyal retainer, and proclaim that he was ready to lay down his own life in exchange for his master's. Though it was just his imagination, he could feel his heart thumping, as if ready to make that fatal exchange. There was no fear in his mind. If that was the condition for Taichi's safety, Yamato would gladly give himself up. There was so much he had learned about the world just by traveling that long road with his handsome companion. There was so much that Taichi had taught him, so many memories that connected them to each other, such that he felt cosmically bound to the samurai. To think that he could find beauty in something other than music was both freeing and frightening, but Yamato was more grateful for these new experiences than afraid.

"…And that is why I think you should try a different style, one of the earlier forms born a little bit before the Edo era," Koushiro said with a sure nod.

Blanching with embarrassment, Yamato hadn't realized that he had shut everything out during his silent fuming. He had allowed himself to get lost in a daydream. Shyly, he requested a repeat, saving face by saying that he didn't quite understand. This, of course, was still understandable, so he had gotten away with the white lie. Koushiro smiled wanly, and immediately Yamato felt a pang of guilt for having him repeat himself.

"You are a man of music, of course. So I don't think that my style of fighting suits you. When I watched you fighting, you moved as if you were playing the koto. That doesn't work for what I do, of course. To me, that's too many movements, too much flourish, you see? But there is nothing wrong with that. We simply have to change your curriculum to reflect what you already know, which is a series of rhythmic, flowing, subtle movements. I may need to get you a longer blade, but I think we can try blending a few of my techniques with the Yagyu Shinkage-ryu style of fighting. You've proven to be quick on your feet, which will be advantageous to you. And there is the added benefit of…well…more disarming techniques rather than techniques meant to kill."

Yamato was grateful for Kushiro's accurate assessment. Despite his flights of fancy, he still could not imagine himself taking a life. There were still times where he'd sit up in bed, unable to sleep with the thought of a disembodied head floating in the river, or hanging on a pike. The worst nights had familiar faces on them. He never told a soul, but somehow, Taichi had always been awake for him. It was as if he had known exactly when the nightmares would come and kept himself alert for his sake. _But when it comes down to it, what if I have to do it for you, Taichi? What choice do I have if they are threatening your life?_ Yamato thought sadly.

Nodding in understanding, Yamato agreed to trying Koushiro's new training regimen. They were quickly running out of time, but they had reason to believe that the Yagamis would be kept alive. The unfortunate message that was delivered to them by a member of the Hantsuki that morning mentioned that the Yagamis were high-ranking members of society that would know more about the movement against the Shinsengumi, among other things. It was a small blessing, completely camouflaged in an ugly disguise. With this information in hand, Koushiro calculated that they had at least until the next phase of the moon for them to strike. When Yamato asked why, Jyou was the one who answered. "The darker the sky, the fewer bodies detected," said the tall boy, eyes shot with fear. "Part of the reason why no one was killed the other night was because the moon was so full. A fine night for capturing — though, of course, very rarely they are known to kill during a full moon — but in general, they save executions for the new moon, when the night is as black as their hearts."

The thought was bone-chilling. Yamato took very little comfort in knowing this. "In that case," he had replied, "I will be diligent in my studies of the sword so I may be of use to you all. We will rescue the Yagami family and anyone else, if only because that is what's just."

That night, Yamato slipped into a deep sleep, his delicate fingers wrapped around the _ema_, dreams drifting to images of the young samurai he held dear. _I'll be with you soon_ was the last thought Yamato had before slumber took hold on his consciousness.

* * *

><p>Taichi was worked to the bone. He knew that he was somewhere near Bishamondou, though he wasn't quite sure of where, exactly. The Shinsengumi compound was well-hidden, still somewhere in Kyoto, though more east than he'd have liked. Initially, he was sure that he would be kept for some sort of Shinsengumi servitude, doomed to cleaning floors and not allowed any weapons, but he was surprised to find that they were absolutely serious about recruiting him. Since the day he'd been spirited away, his swordsmanship was deemed "glorious", according to one of the blue-clad men. Upon first trial, there were very few who could best him in a duel with either shinai or bokken. Many were actually afraid of dueling him with real swords, but of course, these were not words that could be said. Cowardice wasn't tolerated there, despite their way of dealing with people that didn't agree with them. But it turned out to be a rather advantageous position for the young samurai. Of course, this did mean daily rounds of non-stop sparring. Even when he was exhausted, other ronin only got <em>very close<em> to beating him. Still, it did mean that he was drilled until he couldn't hold a sword anymore.

He sat in his simple, tiny room, wrapping his calloused hands with cloth. It had been a long time since he had to practice with that much intensity. The night when the strange Shinsengumi men brought him in, they were sure he had been marked for death. His fever was dreadfully high and his labored breathing signaled that he may not make it through the night. In a cruel attempt to make it so, the lower ronin threw him into the smallest, mold-ridden rooms, ready to tell the head of this sect that the Yagami boy had died disgracefully before meeting with him. To their shock, he had emerged from the room early the next day, healthy and with fire in his eyes. The lesser ronin, who were guarding the room, drew back in fear, citing old texts and begging for their lives. They believed that Yagami Taichi had the work of a demon on his side, and they swore to other members of the compound that a hideous Tengu spirit was alive within the boy. No one believed them, of course. And they were never heard from again after their disgusting lack of showmanship.

It had been about a week or so since he was brought to the mountain compound. For the most part, no one spoke to him. Orders were barked at him from time to time, and although he was given command of a weapon, he could still only best four or five at a time. With an entire community of samurai ranging from mediocre to deadly, Taichi knew it wouldn't be a good idea to try and sneak out to get a message back to Yamato and the Hantsuki. He hadn't even had a chance to look for his parents, though this was to be expected. After the first day there, thinking him a weak pup, the soldiers immediately rethought their tactics and stationed new guards. These men were much more capable of dealing with the big-haired samurai. One of these young men was Hida Iori, who looked beyond mortified and disgruntled for having to deal with the likes of the Yagami boy once again.

But Taichi did not mean to be unfriendly. Of course, he did forget that it was Iori's job to take him to the Shinsengumi in the first place. He didn't realize that Iori's failure meant that the quiet samurai could no longer roam the streets of Kyoto, policing the town as his family had before him. He certainly didn't realize that babysitting Taichi was the last thing on earth he'd wanted to do at this moment. The boy's eyes glowered with a mixture of rage and shame whenever his ears picked up the sound of Taichi's scratchy voice.

"Hey, so, I know that we started off on the wrong foot," Taichi said once again, his hands fully bandaged. He stuck his head out of the nearly-closed door. Iori swiftly shut the door, not caring that he nearly snapped it on Taichi's neck. "Er, okay, that was rude, but I'll forget that happened, so let's try and let bygones be bygones. I'm here, aren't I? Look, I'm just going crazy with everyone so quiet and secretive, and you're the last one here who I can kind of recall speaking to me. Well, okay, so you threatened me last time, but that's beside the point…"

With a loud, annoyed sigh, Iori drew the door open again, just a crack. "Do you ever stop talking?" he hissed through the tiny space. "Just sit there and be quiet. I cannot imagine why it is so important to waste breath when battle could occur at any moment."

Taichi rolled his eyes, making sure that Iori turned away as a result. A commonality of many guards is a very low tolerance for dishonorable prisoners, even if they were being kept for their skills. Taichi had learned this long ago when he was once the smallest of the runt, being kept in the make-believe jail cell as a child. Most of the other kids acting as the guard couldn't stand hearing him squabble, and either tried to smack him upside the first or turned away and pretended he didn't exist. Taichi had a good feeling that Iori was the type to imagine him away, and he was right. He squinted through the tiny crack.

The slight boy had his arm wrapped in a sling. The last time they had met, Taichi had lodged a broken bokken piece into that arm. Wincing as the memory returned, Taichi let out a heavy sigh and sat against the door, knowing that Iori was on the other side. He was frustrated and he just wanted to go home. It had been so many hours since he had seen Yamato. How could he be sure that his beautiful retainer was safe? Some so-called lord he was. He sorely wished that Iori were a bit more talkative, but perhaps there was nothing to be done about that. Exhaling loudly through his nose, he said, "Sorry about your arm. It wasn't really my intention, you know?"

"You should have just followed orders," Iori replied monotonously. "It was not a very difficult command."

"Commands are very rarely difficult," Taichi said with a bored yawn. "Come on! How many times have you ever been issued a complicated command? How many captains will tell you, 'You will slash five times, but only if the enemy comes at you from the front — if they come from behind, slash three times, spin, call your comrades, raise the flag toward the sun!' None! Absolutely none. They would simply say, 'Fight. Call back up if necessary. Then raise the flag.' Done. And why is that? Because commands are commands. They're meant to be simple and obeyed by anyone."

The boys were quiet. For moment, Taichi thought that Iori had got up and left him. The sound of cicadas chirping constantly made the heat come back to his senses. Feeling his eyelids grow heavy, Taichi tried to think of cool things. _The strange wind that blew both Yama and I away and gave us these ema. The cold steel of Yama's cleverly hidden ice pick. The chillingly beautiful blue of his eyes._ He smiled to himself. Even if he were still sweating on this humid midday, at least his mind was occupied with thoughts of happiness.

"Do you think me a simple boy?"

The quiet sound of Iori's voice jarred Taichi back to reality. Now it was his turn to be annoyed, but there was an inquisitive tone that reminded Taichi of Koushiro. The redhead would be on the verge of some new discovery with that tone of voice. Rarely did that ever come to something unwanted. Perhaps this would be a breakthrough of sorts — and if anything, it would be one of the first full conversation he'd have had in this bloody compound.

"Er. Sorry. You're asking me, right?" Taichi said, wanting to confirm before spouting off again. He must have been quite desperate for any sort of talk to have to hold his tongue for it.

"There is no one else here."

"Right, right. So, to answer your question, yes, I guess I do think that."

And just like that, the conversation died. Clearly, Taichi said something wrong, but what was he supposed to do? He couldn't just lie to the boy. After all, the young man was a samurai. Strong of mind, body, and heart. That was what was expected. But after some thought, Taichi realized that there was something much stronger than all that, and it was loyalty. Iori was a boy who must have thought that his life was destined to follow one path and one path alone. Taichi felt sorry for him, but had a feeling that now was not the best time to chirp up with that exact statement. Instead, he said, "Though that is what I think…I also think that you're still young. You're growing. And, well…a part of growing means making your own choices. That's what I think, anyway."

Iori did not reply. His weight shifted against the door, and he slid the door shut with as much of a thud as a sliding door could. Taichi sighed. It was going to be another long day. Before long, he'd be called upon again to do more duels for some unknown reason. Once again he'd try and devise a way to locate his parents and get back to Yamato. Once again, he might fail. But once again, he'd tell himself it was worth trying.

* * *

><p>Yamato's skill had improved dramatically in the coming days. Mimicking Koushiro had been a fair but shaky start, but after his training session had changed direction to a different style, it was clear that the initial fighting style was not right for him. Now, the pale-haired musician wielded the lengthier sword with more confidence than before. He danced with the blade rather than attacking with it. His slender body was made for speed over force, allowing him to maneuver through enemy attacks with grace. He was told to imagine one of the longest koto songs he could remember as he moved. This technique drove his footsteps faster, and his sword to come down with more finesse. Daisuke whistled from the rooftop.<p>

"Amazing! As expected as a descendant of the Ishida clan," said the ninja with a massive grin. "To think, it only took you a few days to pick it up. And all we had to do was tell you to do swordplay as if you were playing a koto! How silly of us to not think of that in the first place."

Even Jyou, who was still sore over Taichi's loss, had to admit that watching Yamato was uplifting. The man moved with such grace that it was almost like watching an actor float on stage. One could not help but sigh happily, connecting all things in nature to the beauty of simple movements. Jyou remained mum, but smiled, feeling more confident that these men would be able to save one of his oldest friends. He never stayed too long to watch the practices, choosing instead to help out around the Takenouchi household by doing chores and maintaining short sessions on religious practices. But passersby would see him glancing over his broom, making little cheering motions when someone made a particularly good hit on the practice dummies.

Daisuke talked incessantly during this time, warbling over the supposedly scary coolness of Ishida Mitsunari. "I know you might not think of me as someone who pays attention to history, but certainly you should know that the blood of everyone in this compound is related to someone elite from the Sengoku period. Bloody wars, they were, but there was so much _renown_ in having fought in them! Now, I'm not saying that I've only befriended you all for this reason. It was just a strange and, admittedly, happy coincidence. Almost like living my own history," said the young ninja as Yamato stylishly hacked his way around a row of dummies.

"You know, the more you say things like that, the more I'm unsure if you're sincere about your reasons of friendship," Yamato said between light grunts, a half-smile upon his lips.

"Oi! Don't say that. Come now, friend. Think on it! We all come from such different backgrounds. You came from Odaiba. Quite a few have lived their lives in Kyoto. I've grown up a little ways away from a little town on the Tokaido, but made my way around as an actor. You don't know Ken, but he came from Sendai, and again, joined an acting troupe. Honestly, a fair amount of us are from a sort of floating world, don't you think?"

Daisuke hadn't meant to take it seriously, and Yamato didn't mean for it to be taken as such, but the boy's thoughts held merit. Of the group, he, Daisuke, and Ken were all men who played on the stage. Mimi was a geiko, an occupation that had its roots from the floating world, though it was now considered a more prominent position than the questionable courtiers of yore. The Sora girl was in the floral arts. Takeru, in a way, was in a floating world of his own — not exactly _ukiyo_, but a spiritual world that was mysterious in many ways. And somehow, Hikari was even able to visit that world. That left Taichi, Koushiro, and Jyou, all men who grew up in the old capital, two of whom were raised by the sword, and the latter raised to help take care of them both.

While Yamato didn't know much about history, he didn't doubt that they were all of a noble kind of genealogy that was not something they were allowed to choose. Was destiny trying to send them a message? Were there more like them? It was strange, to be sure, and the more he thought about it, the more he thought that he was losing his mind. The _ema_ from within his belt seemed to radiate heat with these thoughts. Certainly, he must have been imagining things.

The musician barely registered the pain he felt in his sore limbs as he continued his dance with the sword. He hated to admit it, but once he found the proper technique, the sword felt as natural as a koto. _I never wanted to be like father_, he thought to himself firmly, bringing the sword down on the dummy. _This means nothing. This is only a means for me to save Taichi. That is all._ Were the practice doll a person, he would have rendered them armless; not fatal, but definitely disabled. And had he the stomach for it, there was no doubt in anyone's mind that he could have made a kill if necessary.

He could hear his father's gruff rumble of laughter. It sounded cruel in his mind. _To think, this delicate petal of a son I had could actually wield a sword like his old man,_ said his father's imaginary voice. _I should be proud, shouldn't I?_

It was the last thing he wanted. The thought drove him to practice harder. The practice dummy made of tightly-woven straw was sturdy, but could not stand up to Yamato's swift movements. An intense combination of helping his samurai and defying his father started to solidify his movements. At some point during his training, Sora had come out to serve tea. In an mild attempt to flirt with the musician, she nearly lost a hand. She didn't return to the training area after that instance.

Koushiro appraised his accidental new student from afar. After a few nights, he gave a single nod and put a strong hand on Yamato's shoulder. "You've done very well," he said, voice weary from either training, the unbearable heat, or some other unknown reason. The young man's dark eyes were focused on something far away, something in the sky that Yamato felt no one else could see.

"Koushiro? Is something the matter?"

The red-haired youth did not break his stare. It seemed that he was trying to bore a hole into the abyss. There was something burdening the quiet samurai, that much was clear. Yamato had the strangest feeling that Koushiro was going to do something reckless. Everyone had their own expression that denoted spontaneous action would occur in the near future; Yamato had remembered times when Master Kengyo would look half-dead, only to compose a maddening new and original song the next day. Koushiro looked an awful lot like Master Kengyo at this moment in time. Perhaps all intelligent types had a similar look, because the words that quietly spilled out of the samurai's mouth were, "I'm leaving tonight to save Mimi."

He had spoken so softly that it was certain he didn't tell anyone but Yamato. His eyes offered all the explanation necessary. With a bow, he took off wordlessly back into the manor. The secret would have to be safe with Yamato.

This was not a usual occurrence in Yamato's life. For years, it had just been Master Kengyo and himself. There were never any secrets then. By choosing to explore more of this world, Yamato had now been exposed to more than just novel geography. He had made friends of sorts from the moment he performed Dojoji. And now he was meant to keep secrets! Accustom to life as a lone wolf, he was unsure of how to deal with the new feelings of worry and wonder of what to do in such a situation. Surely he could not allow Koushiro to go off on his own without backup. But the samurai had entrusted him with these words. But for what reason? Why tell Yamato? Why not tell the others? Did he perhaps hope that Yamato wouldn't tell anyone else? Friendship was a complex beast.

Perhaps it was best to mind his own business. At this time, what was important was making sure that he was strong enough to rescue the Yagamis and bring them back. Koushiro seemed to know what he was doing. Yamato wasn't entirely sure what a seasoned warrior could be called in this day and age, but the dark-eyed samurai was a capable young man. Still, it didn't seem like a wise move for him to go off on his own.

Yamato decided to gauge the situation by asking around. There weren't many passersby in the calm Kyoto area; it was truly a safe haven for them all, but he felt that the group he was with would know enough. He went to Jyou first. The tall priest was inspecting the storage area, muttering to himself about this and that, making sure that there was enough to go around. He was carrying two heavy-looking buckets of water, presumably to prepare for a fire. The corridor already had at least a dozen of them lined up in a row. Apparently, Jyou had given the well quite a bit of use. "Kidou-san, I apologize for disturbing you. May I help at all?" inquired Yamato, gesturing to the line of buckets.

Since Taichi's disappearance, Yamato did not feel comfortable with calling Jyou by his first name. Of everyone, Jyou was the one who was still upset, and Yamato understood how he must have felt. He did not want to disrespect the boy, especially since he looked older. "Oh…thank you, yes, I suppose that would be helpful," Jyou replied absently. "There are about twenty more lined up just outside. If you could bring a couple in, then the entire Takenouchi manor will be officially safe from flames!"

Biting his lip to hold back how mad he thought the preparations were, Yamato rolled up his sleeves and began lugging in two buckets at a time. The two men were quite skinny, but working together, the were able to get everything done in a short amount of time. Before Jyou could ask him to start setting the buckets out around the manse, he posed his question carefully. "Kidou-san, if I may trouble you with a question?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, of course. What can I do for you, Ishida-san?" he replied, pushing his glasses up against his nose.

"I apologize for the insensitivity of my subject, but…I do understand that we are staying here in order to keep ourselves safe from the Shinsengumi. What I want to know is, how dangerous would it be if one of us were to go out alone?"

Jyou's face looked ashen despite the sticky heat. His expression contorted his face, at first fearful, then angry, then finally stopping somewhere in between. "It's foolish! It's beyond foolish. It's enough that we've allied ourselves with the Hantsuki. For the most part, if we're not samurai or if the don't know our faces, we're safe. But a samurai who doesn't don the blue uniform…I simply don't think it's a good idea. I certainly hope that's not what you're implying! We've got Koushiro and Daisuke here, which, I admit, is not much. And you are training quite well for someone who hasn't truly wielded weapons. The three of you going out to save the Yagamis? Yes, this makes sense. But just you? No, that's entirely unsafe. The Shinsengumi aren't fond of dissenters who get in their way."

"I see. No, please don't fret. I'm not planning on anything like that. Perhaps I phrased my question incorrectly. I simply wanted to inquire about what we were up against. You see, I am still nervous — please don't misunderstand, I will do everything in my power for Taichi — but it does not mean I have thrown away all fear."

"Oh. Yes, well, that is very astute of you, Ishida-san. I appreciate you coming to me for this information," Jyou said, a genuine smile on his face. Suddenly, he bowed. "Now, it's my turn to apologize. I have been angry at you for too long. I know that you're working hard. I cannot change what happened in the past. There was nothing I could have done to make you a better warrior, or to make Taichi healthier so he could fight. I've let selfishness and anger cloud my mind and as a priest, this does not reflect well on me. I hope that you will accept my sincere apologies; please understand, I just wanted to be able to do something. This helplessness is too much to bear, especially when my family and the Yagamis have been bound together for so long."

Feeling embarrassed, Yamato bowed back as deeply as he could without fear of being seen as rude. "Please, I am the one who should apologize to you. You are still a good priest, Kidou-san. I am an odd one, I admit this! Had I followed in my father's footsteps from the beginning, I would have been able to help. But I can't help but wonder: if I had done that, would I be here today? I am unsure. But I am certain that I am happy that I've met all of you, and while I hate that Taichi is gone…I…I want you to know that he is important to me. More than I think anyone knows. And I am sorry, not only to you, but to him, because I should have done more to protect him in the way that he had protected me."

They carried on like this for some time. Noticing the sun was starting to set, Yamato bowed low and excused himself from the priest's presence (Jyou had started sobbing into one of the water buckets, beginning to pray as a reminder that he was to let go of these worldly ties in order to gain peace). Daisuke was just around the corner, munching on an apple. "Boy, you two went on and on and on, didn't you?" he said through mouthfuls of fruit. "What was that all about?"

"I wanted to learn more about the Shinsengumi, so I asked him how foolish it would be if one person were to go off on their own."

Daisuke sputtered; apple crumbs flung from his mouth and onto Yamato's clothes, and he looked as if he were about to choke. Apparently, the Shinsengumi either evoked sober feelings of fear or shock. It seemed that the very idea of going out on one's own was not a sound idea in the least. "Wha? You're crazy! You're not thinking of doing that, are you?"

"No, no, I am not! That's what I was just talking to Kidou-san about. That's why we had had a conversation as long as we did," Yamato explained, brushing off the apple pieces from his sleeve, not trying to hide his disgust.

"Jeez, that would have been a bad decision. A really bad decision! Anyone could have told you that. Really, Yamato, you should join a troupe after all this. You'll learn much more about the world when you're performing for the world!"

The ninja hopped up onto the railing with incredible ease. He lifted a leg and raised a hand to his forehead, looking like a sailor searching for land. "Besides, you've got me and Kou. It'll be much better if it's the three of us going, y'know? That way we'll have each other's backs, and we don't need to…y'know…be worried of getting stabbed in the back. By the Shinsengumi. Because they do that sometimes."

With a gulp, Yamato decided that he'd heard enough. It was clear that what Koushiro was doing wasn't the smartest thing he could do despite possibly being one of the smartest people in the group. He had to tell someone. Apparently, it seemed that even having one person to watch the other would be good enough. There had to be other Hantsuki in the area that could help. Unsure of how to handle the situation, Yamato decided to ask one of the girls. He hadn't spoken with Sora much, so that left Hikari. Though she was young, she had a good head on her shoulders and would probably know how to handle such an ordeal. Plus, he felt a sense of comfort being with her, as her eyes were nearly identical to Taichi's, and being near her made him feel closer to Taichi.

He found Hikari in one of the gardens, sipping a small cup of tea slowly. She was sweating slightly from the heat of the day and the warmth of the liquid. Yamato announced his presence with a light cough so that she could dab herself dry if she required it. She did not. She waved him over and invited him to sit next to her. "Hello, Yamato. How are you? How is your brother?" she asked pleasantly, as if they weren't in the middle of training for a possible suicide mission.

"Oh, well…in all honestly, I haven't heard from him lately. I confess that I've had generally dreamless slumbers from the exhaustion."

She chuckled, sipping her tea again. "Well, I can tell you that he does say hello and that he sends his love. He'll probably be around soon, from what I heard. I just wanted to know if you had any other conversations with him."

Yamato felt sheepish, wishing he knew how to contact his brother as well as Hikari did. It wasn't his fault that his brother decided to live on Mount Kurama and only appear in dreams. "Um…well, thank you, Hikari-san. Actually, I am here because I'd like to voice a concern. I've only just realized that I haven't truly had friends before meeting Taichi and everyone here. I have been told a secret and I am uneasy, because it seems like keeping it would harm the friend, and telling everyone will make the bond of friendship break."

He wasn't sure why he was able to speak so freely with her, the way he would have spoken to Taichi. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if this is what it was like to have a sibling nearby. It was a lovely thought, somehow, to think of Takeru and Hikari, and what it would be like to have tea with Taichi and their respective siblings.

Hikari regarded him with a mild look of surprise. "That is quite a bit of information to take in, isn't it? Yes, I agree that is a very difficult situation. If you think that your friend will come to harm, I do think that it would be a good idea to tell someone. It's much easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, I've found."

The girl was very accomplished for her age, and it was highly believable that she was smarter than most people Yamato had met on the Tokaido. It was not surprising at all to hear such sage advice from her. Yamato thought that perhaps Koushiro was the only one who might be on par with her. He thought about this and hoped that she knew just how wise she was, and mentioned it to her in earnest. She smiled serenely and continued drinking her tea.

With this information in mind, Yamato felt compelled to do something to make sure that Koushiro would be safe. He and Koushiro were friends of a sort, and he was sure that Taichi would not be pleased if he allowed a friend of his to walk into trouble or possible demise. As the sun began to sink deeper into the sky, the musician snuck away into a room that had tools for leaving a note. Carefully, he wrote a poem on Koushiro's motives, making sure not to be insensitive by mentioning names.

_Crimson leaves fall fast_

_ Eagerly chasing after_

_ A cherry blossom_

* * *

><p>Moonlight dipped into the tiny room allotted for slumber. Taichi lay on an old tatami that smelled of seaweed and dirty feet, snoring softly. Despite this unfortunate circumstance, he did have the luxury of having his own room, even though it was heavily guarded at the door and the window overlooked a very steep fall from the mountain compound. He was not ashamed to clutch the <em>ema<em> dangling against the bare skin of his chest, with a whisper of Yamato's name on his lips.

There was a light rap at the door. Taichi barely stirred. The sound became more rapid, like the beat of a hummingbird's heart, until Taichi finally groaned, wiping the sleep from his eyes. "Wha's goin' on?" he mumbled, turning over on the uncomfortably old tatami mat. "'S there a fire…?"

He set about to fall asleep again, as he hated getting disturbed while he was resting, when a large pebble sailed right into his forehead. Ready to yell in protest, the sound was blocked immediately by a cold hand. Alarmed, Taichi's warrior instincts took over. He grabbed the wrist attached to the hand, shifting his weight dramatically so that his assailant would be thrown to the ground. The attacker was not one to be trifled with, it seemed, for the figure immediately reacted with a countermove, rendering Taichi as the helpless one with his face to the ground.

_This is it_, Taichi thought angrily, scoffing to himself. _To think this is how I'd be leaving this earth. Damn it…if only I could have seen Yama one last time. That's all I wanted! That was all. Kwannon, please, if you'll have mercy on my soul…_

He waited for the blade that would take his head. That was the symbol of victory, for glory. At the very least, he could take comfort in the fact that these so-called samurai were cowards. Who else would attack a man in the middle of the night? There was no honor in that. Taichi's soul would have the satisfaction of being on the moral high ground.

"Quickly, please. You were difficult to awaken. I am going to take you to your parents, but you must stay as silent as a mouse."

"So you're not trying to kill me?" whispered Taichi harshly.

He allowed his eyes to adjust. The voice was familiar, but why on earth would this person come to his aid? And how had he gotten there undetected?

"Kindly refrain from your less-than-clever remarks. If you are going to follow me, do go ahead. If not, I am more than happy to leave you here to rot."

"Bloody hell. So you and Daisuke…"

"Yes. We are ninjas, you and you friends are uppity samurai. Let us skip the obvious before you have another of your supposedly common seizures. It took my troupe a long time to get here, and I'd rather not risk my neck for someone who is unwilling to cooperate when a way out is so graciously given." Ken Ichijouji tossed his night-colored hair back, his voice arrogant.

Taichi got up as quickly as he could. No weapons were given to him in the evenings, so there was nothing to bring. He wasn't as stealthy, but he willed himself to call back any sort of calm he had had before. Freedom was too close for him to falter over heavy footfalls. The _ema_ within his robes had a distinct heat. It was impossible to feel it without thinking of Yamato.

He had to wonder how Ken made his way into the compound, and he got his answer soon enough. The guard that was meant to be watching Taichi was out cold against the door frame. No traces of blood were found, so the ninja must have just pulled a nerve to allow minimal escape. Hoping that Ken didn't leave a trail of unconscious guards around Bishamondou, he followed the agile youth through the Shinsengumi quarters, feeling a rush of excitement with their imminent escape.

They roamed expertly through the corridors (Taichi decided not to ask how Ken knew where to go), flinching every so often at tiny sounds. Finally, after a myriad of twists and turns, they stopped just short of a long corridor. Around the corner, Hida Iori was dutifully kneeling in front of a plain-looking door. Ken wrinkled his nose in disgust. Taichi didn't have to guess twice to understand that his parents were behind that door.

Taichi saw Ken turn around. The exit must have been nearby; it would have been a sound decision to leave now and rescue his parents later. Ninja were often used for missions like this. But Taichi was not a ninja; he was a samurai, bound by something stronger than the need for freedom. His parents had always been kind to him. He knew that not many were as lucky as he and Hikari, but for him, filial piety was an important part of his life. He looked at Ken for a moment. The ninja crossed his arms, shook his head, and made a motion that said, _I'm leaving without you if you do something stupid._

Taking a deep breath, Taichi mustered up all his courage, rubbing the _ema_ for luck. _Yama, I'm sorry if I get myself killed this way. I want to see you, I do…but how would I be able to face myself if I knew I could have helped my parents, and didn't? I don't think I could, Yama. I'm sorry. But I hope that you and Kwannon will keep an eye on me for a little bit._

As Taichi crept toward Iori, Ken rolled his eyes, motioned toward the eastern wall, and made his way out a secret panel. Pursing his lips, Taichi moved forward. The only way to get through was to defeat this boy. Taichi knew that they could easily be equally matched; Iori fought ferociously, with a calm demeanor that frightened most opponents away. Iori's ears perked up at the soft scratching sound of Taichi's _zori_.

The samurai regarded each other for a moment. Iori, noting that Taichi didn't have a weapon, graciously removed one of the three swords from his belt, still nestled in its sheath. He kicked it toward Taichi, who stopped it with his foot. Raising the weapon, he looped the sheath around his belt. Surveying their surroundings, Taichi knew that the _iaido_ style would be his best bet. This would allow him to strike and re-sheath the sword, without causing too much damage to the building, or waking anyone up.

Within a split second, their swords were drawn. The corridor was narrow, so dodging would prove to be difficult. There was no pacing. Their quiet footsteps padded along the wooden floor, swords clashing with a soft clang. These young men had strikes as ferocious as a tiger's claws, and they struck quickly and often.

"Taichi! I know that's you — my precious son, why didn't you run?" came his mother's strangled voice from behind the door. "I beg of you, please run!"

Caught off guard, Taichi faltered. He cursed to himself. His mother was highly confident in his fighting skills and told him that there was never any need to run away when one could fight, but there was something in her voice that terrified Taichi to his very core. What had they done to his parents to make them sound so broken? Ignoring the blood on his cheek, Taichi felt his rage build. He allowed himself dark thoughts — the Shinsengumi were evil enough to make his mother weep, to beg her brave son to run away. Who else would they take? If they took Yamato, would they break him, too?

Mind clouded, Taichi wanted to scream. He wanted his _kiai_ to echo through the halls of this ridiculous place, to wake everyone, to make it so that he could destroy all of them. Who on earth did they think they were? What human thought it just to kill others simply because they were afraid of change? The compound was full of cowards, and he wanted them to know it.

He hadn't realized he'd said all of this out loud, in guttural, feral hisses, whispers in the night that sounded like angry ghosts of yore. His anger prickled, eyes hot with fury. He heard the rustling in the warm wind, and that strange twinkling of a bell that he had come to associate with a certain musician. A flash of red moved before his eyes. A Tengu spirit beckoned him to Iori. He could strike now and be done with it. His parents would be saved.

It had taken him a frightful few seconds to realize that the blade he held was hovering dangerously against Iori's throat. He had put away his sword long ago in surrender. "I know it is time for my end. However, I do want you to know that I thought about what you had said the other day. I do not want to be a simple boy that only follows orders. I…did not realize that you had felt this way. I never thought about my position as a Shinsengumi until the day you spoke to me. Change…does not seem like a frightful concept to me. Had I known…perhaps we would not have been enemies."

Iori closed his eyes, ready for death. Taichi was breathing heavily, sword still pointed at the younger boy's neck, when the twinkling sound emerged again. More thoughts flashed through his mind. Why did the spirits ail him so? Did this mean he would fall ill once more, right in the heat of battle? Try as he might, all he could see in his mind's eye was the fear that Yamato had when the musician had first seen a head speared, meant as a warning to all rebels, or loyals — merciful Kwannon, who were they even fighting anymore? He struggled with himself, and found that he had lowered his sword.

The younger boy did not strike. Instead, he opened the door, untied the Yagamis, and quickly pushed them through the secret panel that Ken had escaped through. Taichi was shaking, face pale, but was beginning to regain his senses. Iori shoved Taichi through, hoping that the older samurai wouldn't leave in the same state he arrived.

Stumbling, Taichi found himself and his parents in a dense forest just outside of the mountain complex. Tired, beaten, and weak, the three of them huddled together, keeping their sounds of joy as quiet as possible. They survived. The next steps were to get back to safety. That was worlds away. For now, they were glad to be alive.

A soft breeze began to blow, warm and welcoming. Again, the twinkling sound! Taichi knew that it was not just Kwannon, but also Yamato, watching over him. _I'll be with you soon,_ Taichi thought, hugging his parents close. _Wait for me. I promise I'll survive._

* * *

><p><strong>Notes:<strong>

1. I'm a beginner in taiko and I play shimedaiko. The smaller drum is meant to accent the odaiko, or big drum. In Awaodori, the odaiko is one of the main instruments heard, and it is characterized by a swing rhythm. It's actually quite fast, but depending on the dance or play, it can also be used quite sparingly. Swift, confident movements ensure a proud drum beat from the odaiko. In Awaodori, the shamisen tends to be played throughout the entirety of the dance, barely ever stopping.

2. There are several different types of samurai fighting styles. Koushiro uses Ono-ha Ittou-Ryuu, or "one sword". Ittou-Ryuu was developed by Ittousai Kagehisa. Ono Jiroemon Tadaaki founded the Ono-ha school, branching off of Ittousai's original teachings. This style has many roots in today's kendo kata.

3. "Itto sunawachi banjo" apparently translates to "one sword gives rise to ten thousand swords", per Ono-ha Ittou-Ryuu.

4. Researching simple ideas of how certain martial arts differ is surprisingly difficult. After much deliberation, I had to go with one of the websites explaining that Yagyu Shinkage-ryu emphasized "flowing, subtle movements", which I think works for Yamato's case.

5. The term "spirited away", aside from being tied to a very famous movie, is a term referring to the mysterious disappearance or death of a person that happens when an angry god takes them away. Of course, Taichi wasn't taken away by an angry god, but the Shinsengumi have their own agenda, and there's also the fact that Taichi was in the middle of "spiriting" without knowing it.

6. Fires were extremely common in this day and age. Many temples and other wooden buildings had emergency buckets of water set down at many places in case such an event occurred.

7. Bowing is a huge custom in Japan. The deeper the bow, the better, but sometimes mannerisms can be so confusing. Some people will be angry if you don't bow low enough; others will be angry if you bow too much. It can be tough! It's also common to have both parties apologize profusely and never actually leave.

8. In very old-timey Japan, poems were often used as messages instead of saying things straight out.

9. Zori are straw sandals that are terribly uncomfortable and worn with tabi socks. I had to wear these whilst drumming a shimedaiko up a steep hill for about an hour. Ugh.

10. Iaido is a sword-fighting style that requires the fighter to draw the sword, strike, and re-sheath it immediately.


	14. Chapter 14: Fleeting Moments

**Ukiyo ~ Floating World  
>Chapter 14: Fleeting Moments<strong>

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Digimon, blah blah blah, or Japanese history. All the stuff I researched was just research through books, lectures, the internet, etc.  
><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Thank you for sticking with me so far! I'm doing my best to end everything in this story, because it's just getting to that point. I apologize for all the long drawn-out stuff I've got here, but it's easy to forget how hard writing is. The next chapter may be the last. Or so I hope.

* * *

><p>It was a humid, sleepy afternoon, so close to sundown, and movement was not expected out of even the most spark-like of children. The streets of Kyoto had been blissfully silent that morning; that calm was long gone. It had been replaced with terrified shouts. Confusion ruled the city. Women clambered about, ushering their children into tiny hiding spaces as their husbands mustered up their courage to protect their homes. They were helpless without weapons, of course. Those belonged to <em>rebels<em>. The word was like poison on their frightened tongues. It was the braver ones who thought that rebels, certainly, would have those swords, but also the men who held fast to the traditions of the old world. Men who wanted to keep Japan pristine and free of change. Flashes of bright blue robes had run amok in the city. The hunt for traitors to the shogunate had begun, and the loyalists were thirsty for blood. This was the inevitable future. Crimson would stain the blue robes like red autumn leaves against a blue sky.

* * *

><p>The chaos had yet to come. The evening prior, Koushiro sneaked out of the house as best as he could once he was sure that everyone was asleep. Had he been foolish in informing Yamato of his whereabouts? Probably. He should have told not one soul, but he couldn't vanish so suddenly. This would be more worrisome than anything else. He could have told Jyou, of course, but the poor boy wouldn't have been able to handle all that stress. It would not do to bother the Takenouchi family of his deeds when they had already done so much for him and the entirety of the Hantsuki. Hikari already had to deal with the disappears of the entirety of her family. Daisuke was too loud and would have informed everyone.<p>

This left Yamato. He could not deny the guilt in his gut; what would the musician do with that sort of information? He may have been studying under the sword for a few moons, but it did not mean that he knew what to do with the whereabouts of a samurai who had decided to stray from his path. He hoped that Yamato would either tell no one, or be clever about it and tell just one person. Perhaps it didn't matter who he told. He only hoped that Yamato wouldn't do something so stupid as to come after him on his own. In fact, Koushiro would bet money that it Yamato wouldn't risk it. The boy was clearly too smitten with loyalty to Taichi that he knew he must have had to stay behind. Koushiro wasn't hurt, of course. He just knew how to study people as he studied books. It was a different sort of discipline. Warriors relied on knowing one's enemy. It was a lesser-known skill to read the faces of everyone around them — certainly, it was a waste to only use it on people one did not like.

Navigating through the night was no easy feat, but Koushiro knew the lay of the land better than most. He had a good head on his shoulders, and would have probably worked with maps if he had not gone the way of the sword. He wished he were as quiet as the ninja he knew, but he had to make do with what he had. At the very least, he was thankful that he wasn't as clumsy as Jyou could be. This brought a slight smile to his face. Memories of times long past were what kept him going. They were what kept his faith in the Hantsuki strong.

He remembered Jyou, always worried as they ran through the Kamo River as children. Taichi's contagious laughter as he splashed Jyou in the face. Sora, joining in, splashing Taichi with the same vigor as a young boy, feigning innocence with her parents when they asked what had happened to her lovely new clothes. The flutter of Mimi's pink kimonos — they were always pink — while she giggled and teased the boys for being silly. She never got her sleeves wet. Koushiro had always admired her for that quality alone.

Having been a maiko at a very young age, she was always in the ripest of positions to get into worlds of trouble. She'd lived a hard life of her own, especially with the lines of the geisha and the courtesan being blurred as it was. The girl was a breath of fresh air, truly a flower that everyone longed to have on display. But she was also a fiercely talented girl, having taught herself all the skills a maiko was required to have from a very early age. She was able to play the shamisen, paint simple pictures, recite poetry, dance, and sing, all with fair proficiency. Her devotion to her art was sincere, and she treasured her body and soul as much as she was passionate about her path in life.

People always worried about her. Sora was often the one who worried the most; Koushiro had the feeling that she worried more than she let on. But Mimi was a brave girl. Always eager to learn something new and beautiful, the girl had stars in her eyes and heaven knew that men paid handsomely for that. Koushiro wasn't one to make ripples in the water. He was afraid for her, too. But he knew she would be okay. The girl was as clever as a mountain cat, and while it sounded like there were many close calls in her line of work, she had always managed to get out of it. They had all thought the same at one time: what if she was lying to protect their ears from the hurtful truth?

But she was the talk of the town from the moment she informed her onee-san that she would not participate in the _mizu-age_, because her body was her own and such things would not be bought from her. Though her onee-san was unquestionably irate with her behavior, it was clear that Mimi did not need the extra money from that. Many of the elder geisha considered her to be ready for the ceremony whether or not it was sold off to the highest bidder, though there were some who regarded it a grand loss of income. She argued that this sort of thing shouldn't be bought, and in any case, she was making more on her own without it, thank you very much. And just like that, it was dropped. The grumbling from the elder geisha only lasted for a fleeting moment, as she was able to repay all her debts in one lump sum, thanks to all her doting patrons. It helped that she never missed a moment to pout and tell those patrons that her company should have meant more to them than something as fleeting as a _mizu-age_. The girl could be very persuasive.

The samurai's stroll down memory lane was interrupted by a loud, "Hey! You really shouldn't go off on these night time strolls by yourself, Kou!"

Koushiro brandished his sword in a flash as a dark figure gracefully leapt out of a tree. "Stay back," he growled. "I could have cut our tongue out in an instant, but I'll let you talk."

"Oh, jeez. I really need to stop scaring you guys like this," said the dark figure, removing his mask. "Seriously, can't you tell what my voice sounds like yet? And you call yourself a samurai!"

Groaning, Koushiro re-sheathed his sword and smacked Daisuke in the back of the head. "Yes, Daisuke, you _do_ need to stop surprising people by jumping out of trees, roofs, and in general, anything that is above the heads of unsuspecting passersby. Especially those with swords, like myself. Any samurai worth their salt would have slain you as you stood. Certainly, I do call myself a samurai, but how could you call yourself a ninja with such reckless behavior?"

Daisuke gave a sheepish shrug. "Yeah, yeah, okay, I get it, Daisuke has a big mouth, blah blah blah. It doesn't change the fact that you're doing something really reckless yourself, going after Mimi on your own…"

With a wince, Koushiro slowly turned to the younger boy. He knew exactly who would have that information, but he decided to give Yamato a chance. Perhaps he hadn't told Daisuke outright, which would have made it slightly more forgivable than turning it into an ugly rumor throughout the Hantsuki quarters. "An interesting conclusion. Kindly enlighten me on how you came to such an absurd idea."

The boy ninja looked worried for a few moments. He took a few loud breaths to calm himself before speaking to his elder. Koushiro rolled his eyes, threatening to smite Daisuke again if he didn't quiet down. With a nervous chuckle and a quick slinking back, the ninja began to speak. "Okay, so…I'm not exactly sure who the…er, original messenger was. I was walking along the beams up top as I usually do in most houses, okay? I practiced some of this, a bit of that, and…er…well, something fell out of my robes. It hit a book in the room below me and a note fluttered out of it. Which is obviously _really suspicious_, if not really interesting, right? And, being the dutiful ninja that I am, I hopped down to take a look at it. The ink was still pretty fresh, and it looks like it was in there on purpose. It was a poem of some sort. I didn't really get it."

He rummaged through his robes and procured the piece of paper, handing it to Koushiro. The samurai looked it over and had to hide his impression with the haiku. It was still unclear as to how Daisuke went about following him. In any case, at least it wasn't Yamato. Taichi wouldn't have to have his head for this. "All right. So you stole this piece of paper from someone's room because you didn't understand it. How on earth does this connect with you following me?"

"Oh, I needed help, of course. I mean, not that I can't decipher things like this. If I had more time I'm sure I could, you know? Or with a code word. Or something. Anyway, I went around looking for you, first, because you're one of the smartest people I know. When I couldn't find you, I looked for Yamato, but when I found him, he was practicing with swords again and said that he's a musician, not a poet, which made sense. I would've gone to the ladies, see, but…er…well, last time I sort of did that…thing where I suddenly appear by jumping from the roof, and they were in the middle of a bath, and…anyway, that was just out of the question. So I ended up asking Jyou, who puzzled about it for a bit, but somehow put together that you were the leaf and Mimi was the cherry blossom or something. Not that I really get it. I mean, I kind of get it. It just wasn't that _obvious_, you know? If they wanted someone to help, why didn't they just write, _Hey, Koushiro's going to go after Mimi tonight, could someone help him out?_ But no. Why does everyone make things so complicated?!"

Koushiro had a habit where he tuned out most of what others said, since a lot of words were wasted. This was especially true with Daisuke. At the very least, he had to admit that Yamato did a good job. The book was likely in Jyou's room. Hikari would have been faster at deciphering the meaning, but it was fortuitous that Jyou was able to help. Yamato was awfully clever, saying so coolly that he wasn't a poet, so that the message was deflected away from him. In conclusion, the musician was absolutely forgivable. The note may not have even been found if not for Daisuke's antics. The ninja was still talking. Koushiro sighed and put a hand over his mouth. "Stop, stop. I understand. If you're to come with me, you really need to play your part as a ninja and _be quiet_."

Daisuke jutted his chin out, making a show of his lips being shut tight. He bowed and ambled along next to Koushiro. Now that he essentially made a promise to be quiet, he figured the samurai didn't want to know that he sent the note along to someone else. Certainly, they would need some backup. They didn't even know where Mimi was, after all. It would have been poor planning to go along without sending for help! This much was true, Daisuke reasoned. And then they were on their way to who knows where to locate the missing cherry blossom.

* * *

><p>A congregation of shadows descended upon Yamato as night fell. He did not scream. Whatever hint of fear he had known before was pushed down into the depths of his soul. He was a being of the floating world, but now he was more than that. These people were either here to help or harm Taichi, and he had to mask all his emotions as if he were on stage to coax an answer out of them. The ninja were silent, moving like snakes, ready to strike if necessary. Yamato felt unreasonably angry at their entrance, but breathed through his nose slowly, as Koushiro had taught him.<p>

"Well, well. Seems the delicate little musician has learned a few tricks," came the quiet drawl of one of the black-clothed beings. "I suppose that means you're worth it to that Taichi. Though I can't understand what you see in that fool. Hmph, brushing aside help like that…"

"Ichijouji-san. What a surprise," Yamato replied calmly. "To what do I owe the pleasure? Surely, I could not have deserved such an elaborate greeting."

"Oh, goodness. I haven't the time to trade mannerisms with you, Ishida. Besides, you'd lose if you were up against me. If you're going to help, get up and help. If you're going to play around, lay there and we'll do all the work. But first, tell me where Daisuke is. I received his message but he didn't leave me any means of following him."

"He's gone after Koushiro. That's all I know," Yamato replied, rising slowly. "They're looking for Mimi, and I don't believe either of them know where they're going. Aren't you supposed to be skilled at tracking?"

"I am the most skilled at it, thank you very much," Ken snapped. "Fine. I will locate him myself. Are you ready to help Taichi? Unfortunately, he didn't follow me out as I had initially asked him to. I left a few of my troupe there in case he managed to escape, but — "

Quite suddenly, Yamato had Ken by the neck against one of the wooden poles. His blade was drawn and gently kissed the white skin on Ken's neck. "You left him there, did you? That doesn't seem polite at all, Ichijouji," Yamato whispered, dropping polite suffixes. "To the rest of you — I'm sure you're aware that it doesn't matter how fast you move if I'm this close to him. If he speaks for you, he must be your leader, and I'm sure Kwannon wouldn't forgive such impudence if you allowed him to perish."

A dark laugh gurgled in Ken's throat. "My, has the kitten developed claws…no, Ishida. He did not follow me out. But it was because he's a samurai and he wanted to save his family first instead of regrouping with us here. I risked my life and my troupe's. The reality of it all is that we were only meant to save one Yagami, and he was the one who was not being as closely guarded as his parents. That is the truth. If you want more information, Ishida, you will put that sword down, as I am waiting for my people to return to me. We have a series of bird calls, messengers, and codes that you couldn't possibly work out on your own. The choice is yours, obviously."

Yamato released the blue-haired boy nonchalantly. He knew he was at risk, being surrounded by so many ninja, but he was not surprised that Ken was a part of the Hantsuki. He decided it was best to play his chances and assume that in-fighting was frowned upon. After all, that's what Japan was doing as they spoke, was it not? His cold blue eyes regarded the ninja carefully. He did not offer a hand, nor did he express a smug expression of triumph when he saw a slight tinge of red on Ken's neck. There was a hint of fear growing in his belly; never before had he felt this way. It was neither the surge of power, nor was it the fire of steel in his hands. It was the fact that someone would get in the way of bringing Taichi back to a safe place that had set him off, like lighting a brand-new candle. Perhaps that was what fealty was; echoes of the past seemed to agree with him.

With an annoyed look, Ken straightened his robes and gave a signal to his subordinates. "I'm having them trail Daisuke and Koushiro. We have more information than they do at this point, you see. It would be in their best interests to come along with us," he explained, regaining his composure. "As for you, it is unfortunate that you're the only one that they had left to rescue Taichi. Or did you do that on purpose? Truly, I wouldn't be surprised. I suppose you enjoy playing the hero after all."

"Your poisonous words are not necessary, Ichijouji. I was not aware of what Koushiro would do. I was not sure if anyone would follow him. It just so happens that it was Daisuke, and it just so happens that I'm the only one left here that is deemed ready to fight."

"But are you, really? A few moons pass and you think you're ready to draw blood? This little thing on my neck doesn't mean a thing, you know. You may actually have to…dispose of someone. Would you truly count yourself as ready for that?" Despite the distinct displeasure he had whilst talking to Yamato, Ken's voice became serious. "You see, you need to be, if you're going to save him. Last I saw, he was going to pick a fight with one of the Shinsengumi officers. And the boy wasn't even one of the elite, you see. But my sources say that Hida Iori was a favorite of Saitou Hajime, at one time. This, to you, would mean that Hida Iori is likely to be quite the swordsman, one that may even rival your precious Taichi."

He did not skip a beat. Quite possibly, he wasn't thinking straight. But he seemed to have trouble doing that when Taichi was involved, more so now that he had a plausible means of saving him. "I am ready. But I will not lie: I do hope that it would not be necessary," Yamato replied. _And it wouldn't be necessary if you had brought Taichi here in the first place_.

"Very well, then. I shall divide my squad so that you will have a couple of guards with you to save your samurai. I will take the other half and save my silly Daisuke and his friends."

"That sounds fair to me."

Ken's ears perked up at the sound of a footstep. "I believe we may have a visitor. Kindly show yourself, as we're all armed," he said lazily, waving a hand as if inviting the impostor to just come along already.

"It's just me, Ken," came the friendly, raspy voice of Sora. "I'm sorry to disturb you. I hoped to…ah…have a word with Ishida-san, that's all."

The ninja discreetly looked from Sora to Yamato and sighed inwardly. The poor girl was in for a rude awakening. Yamato may have been blessed with beauty, but it was unclear whether or not he knew how to handle tact. Ken had been doing so for years; he maintained many female admirers, despite being rather clear about his intentions and emotions toward Daisuke. With a slight bow, he exited the compound and jumped off to his next destination.

Sora approached Yamato hopefully, extending her hand as if she were trying to get the attention of a stray cat. "Ishida-san…Yamato. I'm sorry, I…I did overhear a bit. I am worried for you, going off on your own. Can't you wait until Koushiro is back to save Taichi? I'm sure he'll hold out on his own, he always has, you see, and…"

"I'm ready to save him. I apologize for causing you trouble, Takenouchi-san. The plan is already in motion."

The girl mustered up her courage and put a wan smile on her face. "I understand. I just wanted to ask you to be careful. This isn't going to be easy, as I'm sure you know, and…well…I'd very much like my fiancee to come back alive, you see?"

Yamato finally made a motion to look at the girl. "Fiancee…ah. You mean me, don't you? A promise that was made long before either of us were born," he said, the words feeling heavy in his mouth. Again, a situation that required some finesse. He didn't know how girls worked. He didn't really know how _people _worked. Hoping that he'd gotten things right with Koushiro, Yamato decided to go on. Hearing the truth had to be the best way of going about it. There was nothing and no one in the world that would separate him from Taichi.

"Please…ah…I'm sorry for everything. You must understand. My father and I…we had never seen eye to eye. The moment I left his home, I erased everything that connected me with him. This marriage included. I did not know about it until very recently. I never intended to marry you."

The tears in Sora's eyes made it clear that Yamato had indeed done this incorrectly. He didn't feel bad; he hardly knew the girl. Still, he did apologize. What more could he do? There were no feelings there and he renounced all ties to his father. That's all it was, plain and simple. Perhaps that was the best it could have gone, in any case. He turned on his heel and left, joining a single ninja. "Oh? Just one? Was Ken a bit stingy?" Yamato muttered to himself.

A familiar chuckle came from the shadow. "I think having me is more than enough."

Yamato nearly dropped his blade in shock. "Ta…Takeru? But how…?"

"Brother! As if I would leave you out here on your own. I am not tied to Mount Kurama like a tether, you know. Mount Kurama is always inside my soul, kept secret. Don't you worry."

"I admit I'm surprised that you know a thing or two of sword play, little brother," Yamato teased, lightly elbowing him in the arm.

"All that time in the mountains and you think I didn't once see Sojobo, King of the Tengu, or the spirit of Minamoto no Yoshitsune? Oh, I learned, brother, and I learned from the best. You may actually learn a thing or two from me!"

Yamato slung his arm over his younger brother's shoulders. The reunited brothers walked on together, and with a nod, they burst into a run that would take them to the Yagamis. There was no better way to go about this in Yamato's mind. They would rescue Taichi, who would be able to see his whole family again. They would all go back to Kyoto together.

A troubling thought crossed the musician's mind. _But after all that is said and done, what will we do? Will Taichi still want me, or will he send me back to Odaiba?_

He pretended that his thoughts weren't clouded and ran swiftly alongside his lithe brother.

* * *

><p>The forest was in charge of hiding the Yagami family, though nature only cared so much for humankind.. Taichi let his parents rest under one of the trees, trying to cover them as much as possible. The night had grown cooler, but the moon was still too bright. If anyone in the Shinsengumi compound was looking, well…he didn't want to give anyone an easy time of it. To his dismay, his parents did not look well. The moonlight was bright enough to let him know that the Yagamis had not been treated as well as him. Why was that? What had his parents done that was so unforgivable that they had been locked away from daylight, yet forgivable enough that they were kept alive?<p>

His mother was fast asleep, but his father was fighting to stay awake. A guttural cough shocked Taichi; he hoped no one heard, but he was terrified at the unwelcome sound. Looking around fervently, his heart beat in his throat as he monitored the area for enemies. All was still.

Sickness was a beast that he could not eradicate with his sword. It was bad enough when Yamato was ill in the forest; now his parents lay there, and he prayed to Kwannon that this was exhaustion, that it was something that could be slept off. His breath was shallow. Despite the heat, he found that he was shaking. By not following Ken, he had lost a chance to go back to the Hantsuki for help. This act of valiant heroics meant that he had to carry both parents back to Kyoto proper from the mountain. He cursed his lack of judgment, but he could not deny the fact that he was glad to have them both with him.

Not daring to close his eyes for a second, Taichi did his best to keep his parents comfortable. "It'll be okay," he murmured, distraught that he didn't need to disguise them with earth. Their faces were already caked with dirt. "We'll be home soon. I promise."

The young Hida Iori did a brave thing, surely, but such treason against the Shinsengumi would surely cost him his life. Taichi struggled between thoughts of guilt and the overall feeling of relief that he was no longer locked up in that compound. Iori had given him a gift so important that it simply could not be wasted: freedom. Out here in the forest, he was a sitting duck, but he was one with choices. There was no bound and blind servitude to the Shinsengumi. His sword did not have to be raised against the people he loved, nor did he have to fight for the foolish notion to keep his country 'clean'. There was only so much of the world that could be hidden. Eventually, the world would have to come to them. To him, fighting as a loyalist to the shogunate was like throwing handfuls of sand into the river. Though they may have been stones once upon a time, they were now granules of sand, and they barely produce a ripple in the water.

He didn't dare close his eyes for a moment of grief, but he let his thoughts simmer. He said a short prayer for Iori and hoped that the boy was clever enough to get himself out of this mess. For now, he had to focus on how he was going to get his parents back home safely. It wouldn't be back at the Yagami manor until it was deemed safe, so he had to think of the next safe house. _Sora's place, _he thought sullenly. _I guess that's the next best bet._

It was too soon for him to face the girl who was promised to Yamato. He barely remembered what he had said to that beautiful boy when he was lying on the floor, writhing with fever, but he did remember saying something about Sora to him. What had Yamato replied with? He apologized, surely. But he couldn't remember anything else. He cursed his foggy memory, hoping that he'd be able to mask the shame and confusion with big smile. There was nothing more to it than that. The past is past.

There was no way he could carry both of them on his back. If his father were in better health, he would be able to carry his mother. With two of them on foot, the trek would be more bearable. But that possibility was tossed out the window when Ken left. That blue-haired boy didn't seem to be willing to help with such a matter. He had held out some hope that at least one of his parents would be able to walk, but upon checking, his father's legs had been battered, and his mother was tired and truly exhausted. They looked like they had seen ghosts. Taichi didn't want to ask about what they had to endure.

He longed for his parents to comfort him the way they had when he was a child. But this was not just a scraped knee or the repercussions of falling out of a climbable tree. Taichi thought he wanted the life of a samurai. It used to be a symbol of light, courage, and power. It was a lifestyle and a purpose. And now he knelt on the dry earth of a dense forest, hoping that he would be able to keep his parents safe. The path of the samurai had had its purpose, once. But to fight for this power, simply because the shogun feared the outside world? There was no rhyme or reason. It was like a spoiled child unwilling to accept that their temper tantrums were not effective.

_Curse them — curse them all, the damned Shinsengumi! What right do they have to enforce this so-called peace on us? There is no sensibility in all these innocent people getting harmed,_ Taichi thought bitterly, his fists shaking at his sides.

The familiar jingle of a faraway bell could be heard. Taichi looked up, startled. Though his parents were incapacitated, he knew that no one else could possibly hear that sound. How could a bell sound so faraway and yet ring so loudly in his mind? _No…this bell, it…it means…no, I cannot afford to fall now! Please, Kwannon, no, not now…_

Merciful Kwannon hears all, but she is never required to meddle in human affairs.

* * *

><p>Koushiro and Daisuke walked a fair distance from the Kamo River, making sure to track their progress. Occasionally, they stopped to listen for a sign or a messenger that would tell them of Mimi's whereabouts, but to no avail. The samurai felt his stomach churn, uncomfortable with walking along a river without knowing of the final destination. He knew that she was escaping, and she probably didn't even need his help, but how could he leave her to that on her own? The women of the Gion district were largely unprotected, having only themselves and any friends they were willing to make. While they were highly versed in the arts, a good few of them were unaware of how to use weaponry. Nevertheless, he continued walking, his feet having already memorized the path to Shirakawa, toward the geiko house where Mimi served in Gion. It was a starting place, at least.<p>

Daisuke, holding in all of the questions he wanted to ask, was exhausted by having to keep quiet the whole way. He of course wanted to help Mimi, but why on earth would she stay around the same place that she left? He assumed that some sort of investigating would be done by Koushiro, but that was a part that made him more fidgety than normal. Ken and Koushiro would be the best candidates for such a task, surely. Daisuke was happy as a lookout. And possibly going ahead and getting rid of any enemies to make sure that things went smoothly. Sure, it was a _little_ reckless, but it often got the job done for him, in any case.

The hanamachi was in clear view. Not a sound could be heard; after all, it must have been quite late. But the silence was deafening, and Koushiro was afraid of what he might find here. Did she escape in time? What if she hadn't? He and Daisuke quietly walked forward and remained as hidden as possible in the tiny alleyways, trying to gauge any suspicious activity within the geiko house. He wasn't sure if the silence was the characteristic silence of a night of slumber or if it was something to be feared.

Holding his breath, Koushiro stayed still, listening for anything out of place. He was glad they had taken a winding route to get to Gion; it took longer than the straight path, but he felt better, hoping that they weren't followed. He looked to Daisuke, ready to signal him to get onto the roof.

The ninja looked like he was ready to burst. Rolling his eyes, Koushiro realized that Daisuke needed to talk. He looked at the other redhead expectantly, hoping that the boy would be able to mime what he needed. Daisuke pointed back toward the direction of the Takenouchi residence, then back to where he was standing. It was an odd thing to watch, and Koushiro wasn't entirely sure he could decipher this madness. Bird calls, written scrambled messages — those were things he could handle, and based on Daisuke's performance, he was glad that charades was not one of the chosen methods of communication for the Hantsuki.

Finally, after a long series of pointing, possible insulting, and other silent impressions, Koushiro gave a sigh and whispered as harshly and as quietly as he could, "Just say it!"

Daisuke let out the breath he was holding, which was thankfully soundless. "Whew. Thank you. Just wanted to tell you that I told Ken," he said, his words mashed together. "So, uh, don't get frightened or anything if he just shows up behind you."

"And I am behind you," Ken whispered, nearly startling Koushiro out of his skin.

"For Kwannon's sake, why can't the two of you announce yourself like normal people?"

"Because we're ninjas," Ken replied simply. "Now, Izumi-san, I understand you're undergoing some sort of reckless rescue mission. How very unlike you."

Koushiro reddened. "We shouldn't be talking here," he muttered. "It's not safe. We don't know who's listening."

"I can tell you that no one of importance is in this building right now. The reason why you couldn't hear anything is because this entire district is asleep, but this particular building is evacuated. For the most part, anyway. The head geiko is still in, though she's in shock. And so is Rokujo."

"The woman who sold out all the others? And the leader? How could they be of no importance?" Koushiro asked, his blood starting to boil. _All due to jealousy_, he thought to himself angrily. _Why must people act like this?_

"The very one. But listen, I've already listened in. The woman lives in the middle of the house, so she can't hear us, but I can tell you that she's awake and she looks terribly distraught. The point, now, is that I don't believe she'd know anything about Tachikawa-san's location."

"We don't know unless we interrogate her," Koushiro said, voice deadpan. For all the times he had asked Kwannon for mercy, it was hard to believe that this was a young man who believed in forgiveness at this moment in time.

"Don't be brash, Izumi-san. It honestly doesn't suit you at all. You're smarter than that. You _know_ Tachikawa-san is smarter than that. So let's not stoop to Rokujo's level, yes? Simply not worth it," Ken said with a shrug. "Besides, if we stick around a bit, we'll hear from the others. I went looking for you two specifically and I sent the others out to find any traces of her. We'll be able to track her without a problem."

Daisuke beamed, his heart swelling with pride at Ken's capability. He nudged the blue-haired boy appreciatively and looked back to Koushiro. The samurai was still seething, and his eyes were closed, probably in an effort to find himself at peace. Daisuke felt for him. He knew what it was like to have the person he cared for most missing for unknown amounts of time. While Koushiro wasn't looking, Daisuke grabbed Ken's hand and squeezed it tightly. Ken held on tightly, glad for the warmth of his companion. They'd spent too long apart.

The two of them would never admit it, but they were with the Hantsuki to bring people back together whenever possible. They'd reunited many a lost love. Of course, they were paid for their services, but they did enjoy this aspect of their job. Daisuke was the one who was more likely to break from protocol. Ken, on the other hand, did things by logic, which was a ruleset of its own. Deep down, he was ashamed to have left Taichi's family to their fate. It was something he didn't want to tell Daisuke. For now, though, he could continue being helpful by locating the missing geisha.

Ken beckoned them away from the alleyway and back near the gently rushing waters of the canal, further away from the other buildings and closer to a vantage point. They hoisted themselves up to the roof of Mimi's geiko house, knowing that the two people in the building wouldn't hear them. The vantage point allowed them more visibility to the rest of the city. The water was loud enough to cover their footsteps, and soft enough that the sensitive ears of the three young men could distinguish the secret sounds of the Hantsuki. They lay there for what seemed to be ages until Koushiro's ears perked up. An unusual bird call. Three shrill renditions. Three _ri_ away, approximately. Another bird call signaling _safety_. Mimi was not too far off — but from where they were, the distance matched up.

"No…she's near Bishamondou, isn't she?" Koushiro asked quietly, feeling the blood drain out of his face. "Ken…were you able to get Taichi to safety?"

It was Ken's turn to blanche. He hoped to have this chat with Koushiro alone, not with Daisuke looking at him like he was a god. There was no avoiding it now, though. Koushiro's head, as usual, was in the right place. Taking a deep breath through his nose, the ninja willed himself to speak without wavering. "I was able to get to Taichi, yes. But he did not want to follow me, because his parents were still inside the compound. So, I…I left him there. I could not take him with me because he was not willing."

He could already feel the wave of disappointment. Daisuke's shining eyes flickered as his smile faded, now looking askance. Withered by the change in mood, Ken looked away. He couldn't meet their eyes. "I know what my mission was. It was to rescue Taichi-san. I tried to get him to follow me, I swear. But after I left…I'm unsure of the status of Bishamondou."

Koushiro grimaced, his sword hand shaking. He knew that the Shinsengumi compound was near Bishamondou, which was covered with trees. Plenty of hiding spots, surely, but chances were high that the Shinsengumi were more knowledgeable about those spots than Mimi would be. And if some of her regular clients were of that circle, she would be recognized nearly immediately. It was hard to disguise beauty, especially to men who only seek pleasure in such things. "She couldn't know, then," Koushiro said in finality. "We have to hope to catch up to her and divert her away so that she can make her escape safely."

Ken and Daisuke didn't wait for Koushiro's permission. They immediately began setting of bird call after bird call, so loud, clear, and crisp that it would have woken anyone in the building below them, but it was a state of emergency. The three of them would make themselves scarce as soon as the message was sent. Once they alerted the other ninja, Daisuke and Ken looked to the samurai. "We're much faster than you by a long shot, Koushiro. We'll go ahead and make sure she's okay. You're relatively fast, but you know where Bishamondou is. Can you meet us there? You can escort her once we've diverted her. Would that be acceptable?" Ken asked solemnly.

The samurai wanted to scream at the top of his lungs. _No, nothing is acceptable. You left Taichi on his own, no one is sure if he's safe, and now Mimi is in danger, too!_ His thoughts raced around his brain like wildfire smothering a dry plain. But he forced logic to override his thoughts and simply nodded.

The ninjas leapt up and away, leaving Koushiro to fumble with his conflicting emotions. Once the two boys were up in trees, Daisuke put his hand on Ken's shoulder for a moment. "I know that you're feeling bad about this, Ken," he murmured. "But you're doing something about it, so it'll be okay."

Ken wanted to sneer, to brush it off. Ignoring the problem would be so much easier. But he knew he couldn't hide from this boy. "Hah…yeah. I suppose. I'm…not bothered at all. I just need to do the right thing," he said, confidence wavering. "But I could have one the right thing with Taichi-san, too. What could I have done, though? Would bringing him along with me, kicking and screaming, regardless of how he felt — would that have made my decision vindicated?"

The red-headed ninja brushed his hand against Ken's cheek. "It was a tough one. I know. I would've saved Taichi and I would've tried to save his parents, too, and let's face it. Even I have to admit that I would've probably been killed, and I would've done it anyway, because I'm not so bright. I don't think you'd be too happy. And I wouldn't be happy at all if something happened to you."

With a sigh and a hint of a smile, Ken brushed his lips against Daisuke's for a delicious moment. They embraced each other, savoring the short time they had together. The future was uncertain; going into such dangerous territory when someone of value was essentially kidnapped was a plan destined for failure. But they were strong of heart, and it was not as if this was an unheard of decision made in the past. Life was fleeting, and that was the truest adage they knew. They would be lucky to get out of this alive, but they were ninja. Their identities were based on risk. The boys parted, grinned at each other, and continued toward Bishamondou. They'd always been rather lucky, anyway. Tonight would not be any different.

* * *

><p>The wheat-haired brothers ran through the night. Yamato knew that he was fast, but there was something different about the wind — he had never been quite this fast before. Takeru, clothed in black, led the way. As he followed his younger brother, he felt as if the wind were guiding him toward Taichi, sheltering him from sight. It was an uncanny feeling, and his chest felt like it was lighter than a feather as they sped through the darkness. Every once in a while, Yamato thought he could see an <em>ema<em> dangling from Takeru's belt. It was odd to see something so familiar on someone he hadn't known for years, but he decided to pay no mind to it.

Before long, they came to a gradual stop outside a copse of greenery. Takeru brought a finger to his lips and motioned for Yamato to follow closely. The musician surveyed his surroundings carefully. It was not unlike the forest he and Taichi had stayed in whilst traveling on the Tokaido. The Bishamondou temple entrance could be seen with relative ease; but if he strained his eyes, he could see another compound, hidden higher up and well-covered by the trees. The forest was dense, and Yamato had to force himself to be brave, trying not to jump at what he thought were shadows of the Shinsengumi disguised by the trees.

They stepped gingerly, though avoiding the dried leaves on the ground was a surmountable task. Takeru was listening intently — for what, Yamato couldn't say — and after about ten minutes he stopped. Yamato swallowed hard, feeling his body go cold. The memory of the severed head along the Tokaido struck him fiercely at that moment. He felt himself sway, immediately steadied by his brother. _Remember Taichi-san,_ Takeru mouthed. And so he did, and did all he could to regain his strength.

Shaking with trepidation, Yamato trudged forward, focusing all his efforts on keeping his footfalls quiet. Takeru looked like he wanted to bound ahead. The musician motioned him forward, but Takeru shook his head. It was too dangerous to wander this area alone. The intense silence of the forest was unnerving, and they hoped that it meant all the Shinsengumi were fast asleep in their quarters.

Yamato stopped in his tracks when he heard that familiar bell. The fear drained from his body in an instant. That clear sound was the bell that Taichi had given him so long ago. How could he distinguish it? He couldn't be sure if he was right, but it sounded so right, so sure. He turned away from Takeru, following the sound of the bell as if in a trance. Takeru, who did not hear the bell, felt puzzled, but made sure to keep close to his brother in case of danger. He trusted the spirits, and had the feeling that they were on Yamato's side, if only for this point in time.

They found Taichi's limp body on the forest floor after following the invisible path Yamato walked. Stifling a groan, Yamato fell to his knees, scrambling with the small bag of supplies he had had prepared earlier in the day with Jyou. He put his cold hands over Taichi's forehead. Once again, it was warm with fever, but his body was losing heat quickly. The samurai had been bloodied up a bit, but at least he had no open wounds. Takeru put a reassuring hand on Yamato's shoulder before inching forward, on the lookout for the Yagami parents.

Blinking tears out of his eyes, Yamato began to work. He took the gourd from his belt and tried to pour some water into Taichi's mouth. Were they too late? What had happened? _Please, please, Taichi, don't let this ridiculous fever be the end of you,_ Yamato begged. _Wake up and I'll get you home._

A cough. A sputter. Taichi was coming to. Fumbling with the pouch, Yamato procured the herbs that Jyou said would help with a fever. As instructed, he chewed the bitter greens in his mouth, and leaned over the samurai. He placed his lips over Taichi's, easing his mouth open, and pushed the medicine in. Barely able to sense much, a bewildered Taichi only saw Yamato, feeling the musician's soft lips, his tongue. There was a bitterness in his mouth, but he was happy to pretend that he had just awoken from a very long nap to a very odd but lovely kiss. He swallowed whatever was given to him, but remained still so that Yamato wouldn't leave.

But the blue-eyed young man parted from his samurai, his eyes shining as he looked down at Taichi. "Thank Kwannon," he croaked, stroking the samurai's jawline. "I thought I had lost you."

"Me? Ha…never," replied Taichi, who began coughing again. The medicine was terribly bitter, after all.

Yamato shook his head, remembering to keep quiet. He lowered his voice. "Taichi, we're not safe yet. My brother is looking for your parents. We will take them with us. The Takenouchi household should still be safe, and once we determine your home is not targeted, we'll bring you back there. That's what I've been told. Please, let's get out of this horrible place."

_Brother? Parents? Takenouchi household…stop, please, hold on, I don't know what's happening, please slow down,_ Taichi thought groggily, his head pounding. He felt better knowing that Yamato was here, but he still felt disoriented. What kept happening that caused him to lose consciousness so quickly? Flashes of red kept pounding through his mind, but he couldn't put his finger on it. A Tengu, a bell. It all seemed familiar, but he had trouble putting things together.

"Taichi? Come, please, you'll be all right. Let's get you home," Yamato repeated gently.

_When did Yamato become the one to take care of me?_ Taichi thought. _How bizarre. I must be dreaming. But here he is, stroking my hair, my cheeks, telling me things will be okay. This isn't so bad…this is quite a good dream, then…_

"Brother, let's go. I've found them, but I can only carry one of them. His father's legs aren't functioning correctly. I'm unsure of why. His mother is very frail — I don't think they fed her anything," Takeru whispered grimly. "Is he able to walk?"

_Mother? Father? What happened to you?_

Sudden flashbacks took over. Taichi's head reeled back. Images of the Shinsengumi, the constant training, Hida Iori's sacrifice, seeing his parents after they had been taking. It was not a dream. It was not a nightmare. This was reality! He longed to snap some sense into the rest of his body, but as he commanded his body to rise, it did not respond. It was as if the rest of him had fallen asleep and forgot to wake up. He struggled, desperate for control, but all he could do was hold Yamato's steady hand. He looked up at Yamato's ocean-colored eyes, drinking in the worry emanating from the musician.

"I'll be fine," he murmured, his throat dry. "I…c-can't walk yet. But I will. I need to rest for a few moments. But we should start getting them out of here. You're…Yama's brother?"

Takeru's smile reached his eyes. He was just as handsome, but more boyish, and the resemblance was obvious. "Yes. I'm Takeru. Pleased to meet you, Taichi — you're the one person my brother has chosen to follow. I knew that the bond you share with him was strong, but now that you're together, it's radiant. You may not know it, but it feels warmer around the two of you. It's your auras, merging together as one. It happens every time you are together."

Taichi and Yamato blushed simultaneously, but couldn't help smiling in return. Such an intimate statement was hardly heard uttered aloud in this day and age. Taichi tried to sit up, but only made it halfway before falling onto Yamato's lap. "Takeru…if it's all right to ask, would you please take my mother there first? I don't think she can make it, and I can help my father. I'm sure I'm the only one who can. But please be careful."

"Of course. I'm happy to be of service. I'm afraid none of the herbs will help your mother; what she needs I food," Takeru replied, motioning to his brother, who was rummaging through the herb bag. "But you must both be careful as well. We're much too close to the Shinsengumi compound, and I fear that we've spoken too many words. Be as quiet as a mouse, remember the words upon your _ema_, and you will be safe."

With that, Takeru bowed, gingerly raised Taichi's mother upon his back, and ran silently toward the Takenouchi house. Taichi and Yamato exchanged looks of confusion. How had Takeru known about the _ema_? Now was not the time to ask questions without answers, so Yamato continued to tend to Taichi and located Taichi's father, administering any herbs that might help him recover as well.

The night would be long, but now that they had each other, the samurai and the musician felt that survival was a possibility that was whole and true.

* * *

><p><strong>Notes:<strong>

1. In many ukiyo paintings and Japanese literature since the time of Prince Genji, wet sleeves were old symbolism for free-flowing tears, often because they were so besotted with love in either joy or grief or something in between. Mimi never getting her sleeves wet meant that she wasn't a girl who cried, especially over romantic notions.

2. It's very, very important that people know the distinction between a geisha and a prostitute. The lines had been blurred in today's society, due to the events of World War II. By that time, many women had to go work in factories. Prostitutes would then refer to themselves as "geisha girls" to the American military men; all the while, the world of the geisha began to decline without true geisha to carry on the art. During this time period, the geisha role was still under construction, so to speak. Its origins go back as far as the Heian period (starting in 794), when Japan favored a beauty-obsessed elite class. During this time period (the late Edo period and the emergence of the Meiji era), some geisha would also perform sexual acts, while others still would strictly keep their entertainment to their many talented art forms.

3. Each maiko had an onee-san, or elder sister, who was meant to teach her the ways of the geisha as time went on.

4. Mizu-age is the coming-of-age ceremony for the maiko; once the older geishas deem her ready, the topknot is symbolically cut off; it has at times included the auctioning off of a maiko's virginity. During the Edo period, this occurred with courtesans. (Again with the blurry lines.) To this day, it is argued whether or not mizu-age should be considered prostitution. The practice of exchanging virginity for money was outlawed in 1959.

5. Being a maiko meant having a huge debt to pay off from the very start, from training to nice clothes to whatever else was needed. Patrons would help pay for them, and the money that they earned would go toward paying off that debt.

6. Saitou Hajime was one of the youngest captains of the Shinsengumi. He had changed his names numerous times. By late 1867 (in November), he had changed his name to Yamaguchi Jiro. His skills with a sword were feared by those in the Shinsengumi.

7. I may have mentioned this before, but Minamoto no Yoshitsune was a swordsman of old, playing a major role in the Gempei wars in the late Heike era. He was born in 1159 during the Heiji Rebellion; his father and two oldest brothers were killed by the head of the rival Taira clan, and he was spared. He avenged his family's death in the Battle of Dan-no-Ura by destroying the Taira clan. There are many works of literature, in books, plays, etc. that talk about that fateful battle.

8. In Kyoto, geisha are also known as geiko. The Gion district starts around Shirakawa canal, which flows into the Kamo river.

9. A hanamachi is literally a "flower town". It is the name for the geisha districts.

10. One _ri_ is equivalent to approximately 2.4 miles.


End file.
